


Coming Through The Noise

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, I had to do it, Look it worked too well, Magic, Season/Series 07, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Spoilers, Truth Serum, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Shiro is in the habit of keeping things to himself.  He's always been private, and he prefers to keep his thoughts to himself unless there's a reason to share.He doesn't get that option anymore.Or: Shiro got hit with truth spell magic and he might drop dead of embarrassmentAlso Or: 5 times Shiro told the truth (because magic made him do it)





	1. Chapter 1

Shiro’s head hurt.

Reaching up, he rubbed over his forehead, a low groan escaping him. His forehead throbbed, like he’d walked into a too-low doorway. The feeling traveled through most of his head, leaving him feeling stuffy and slow. When he cracked his eyes open, the overhead lights were painfully bright, earning an unhappy grunt.

He knew those particular lights.

This was the med bay. Which meant Shiro had probably been injured, but not enough to need a pod.

Great.

A small hand settled on his arm. Shiro started and snapped his head over, then relaxed at the sight of Pidge. Her hair was messier than normal and her eyes were wide, but a smile split her face. She looked relieved, but with that tension at the corner of her eyes that said she’d been recently stressed. “Hey there,” she said, unusually gentle. “How are you feeling?”

“Headache,” Shiro answered, then made a face. “And that bad cotton taste, like after a nap. Eugh. What happened?”

Lance’s head appeared over Pidge’s, just as happy to see him but with that same tension. “That sucks. Worst taste, and then your whole head feels stuffy like you have a cold, right? I’m not surprised. You were out for a while.”

Out? That explained the headache, if someone hit him there. “It’s not the worst thing, but it’s not fun.  Were we fighting?” He asked, still slow as he fought the numb feeling in his tongue. It tasted like he’d drank stale water. “Who? The Galra? Last I remember was the Andraxians.”

Lance and Pidge shared a quick look. 

“Actually, no, not the Galra this time. What do you remember last?” Pidge sat down at a chair next to Shiro, her hand still on the upper part of his arm.

“Um.” Shiro’s brow furrowed as he thought back. “Lunch with the Head Councilor. She kept asking about Haggar and the druid magic. She knew about my year, and wanted to know more from me. She wasn’t happy when I said I didn’t remember anything.”

Lance relaxed. “Yeah, that’s about it. Apparently they thought you were lying about your amnesia. When we started to head out, we turned around and you were just… gone.”

Oh, boy. Shiro sat up, looking between them. No wonder they looked so upset. Shiro disappearing under their noses was bound to be frightening, especially on a planet they’d just freed from the Galra. “How long has it been?”

“Just a few hours,” Pidge said, her gaze far too knowing. “They didn’t get the chance to do much. They wanted to interrogate you, but you hadn’t woken up yet. It took a little while to, uh, convince them it was in their best interests to give you up.”

Ah. Shiro’s lips curled up. “Keith wasn’t happy, huh?”

Lance snorted. “That’s an understatement. I’m pretty sure the only reason he didn’t stab someone was that Allura was even more pissed. She got all up in their faces about how we beat the Galra, and if they really wanted to go to war with Voltron. It was amazing.” His eyes brightened and he practically sagged back against the wall.

“Into that, huh?” Shiro froze, eyes wide, then slapped a hand over his eyes. Really? He was better than that. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

There was silence, and then Lance snickered. “Damn, Shiro.  That headache has to be bad for you to slip like that. It’s alright, it’s true. It would have been really hot if you weren’t still missing.”

Pidge crinkled her nose. “Yeah, kind of a mood killer. But after that they let us go and get you, and we brought you back and left. Coran thought you’d be out for a little while later, but we wanted to make sure someone was here when you woke up. We weren’t sure if there was a struggle before you went down.”

“Guess our talks are over, huh?” Shiro dropped his hand into his lap and nodded. It figured, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed. The Andraxians’ interest in Haggar’s magic came from having a similar practice. Magic users to combat the druids would have been a welcome addition to the coalition. “No, I don’t remember anything. Even the end of dinner is a blur.”

Arms crossed, Lance’s eyes flashed. “You bet they are. Very, very over.  They’re lucky we just walked away.” He stalked over to the console and tapped it. “Hey, Coran, Shiro’s up.”

“Already?” Coran’s voice answered. A screen popped up, showing Coran’s face far too close to the camera. “That was barely half the time I thought it would take. I’ll be there shortly.”

Lance held up a finger, then turned around. “Maybe you should bring Keith too.”

“Where is he now?” Shiro asked.

“Last we checked, he was in the training room,” Pidge said. She mimed swinging with a sword. “He had some energy to work off, I think. You want him?”

He would. Shiro knew very well how seriously Keith took protecting him, especially after losing him already. Best for him to get it out while Coran did his scans. “Yes, I’d like to see him,” Shiro said, then paused. 

That hadn’t been what he meant to say.

Huh. He really was loose lipped. The headache was ruining his mental filter.

Coran’s face softened. “I’ll let everyone know you’re up.” With that, the screen cut out.

Well, Shiro was about to be mobbed, then. He couldn’t say he minded. 

Scooting closer, Pidge gestured for Shiro to bend his head down. He did, allowing her to run her fingers over the back of his head. “Anywhere hurt more than the others?”

“No, it’s more of a general ache.” Shiro glanced up through his bangs as he worked. “I don’t think they hit me. I might have been shocked or gassed or something.”

Pidge paled further and her eyes flashed. “We shouldn’t have left so easily.”

“Honestly, I’ll take that over being bashed over the head. I’ve done it both ways and this is gentler,” Shiro said. When Pidge’s expression fell, he winced. “I- no, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Swallowing hard, Pidge pulled her hand back. “No, you’re right, as long as there aren’t side effects. I’m just trying to figure out what they thought they were going to do. They said they were going to ask you more questions, but I don’t know why they’d think you’d tell them more.”

“They were probably planning on torture.”

Okay, Shiro really needed to regain control over his mouth.

Lance winced and crossed his arms tightly, like a chill ran through him. He sat down heavily in his chair. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Sorry,” Shiro said. He gave them both a bland smile. “I’m fine. Really, I’m a little hazy and that’s all. They didn’t get to do anything they planned to us, and if I have anything to say about it, they never will. Thank you for getting me so quickly.”

Managing a smile, Pidge playfully punched Shiro’s knee. “Don’t go getting kidnapped and we won’t have to worry about it.”

“I make no promises.”

The door opened, letting in Coran, with Allura, Hunk and Keith right on his heels. “There he is! Good morning, Number One. Nice to see you up and active again.”

“Hello, Coran. Seems I missed some chaos.” 

“You can say that,” Hunk said. He offered Shiro a warm smile, then stepped out of the way so Keith could hustle pass.

Stepping up, Keith put his hands on either side of Shiro’s shoulders and looked him over. “How are you feeling?”

“Pidge already looked me over, and Coran’s about to do a deep scan.” Shiro gently clapped Keith on the side of his head, stilling him. “Hey. It wasn’t long this time. As far as we can tell, nothing happened. You okay?”

Keith snorted in his face. “Don’t ask me that. You’re the one that got kidnapped again.”

Clearing his throat, Coran flapped a hand. “Apologies, but I do need Shiro to lay back down for the scan. You can have a moment soon, but I’d rather make sure everything is okay first. No strange symptoms?”

“Headache and cotton mouth,” Shiro reported. At Coran’s burrowed brow, he sighed and laid down. “A funny taste in my mouth. It happens often when I sleep for only a couple of hours. Nothing unusual, but it might be from whatever they used to knock me out.”

Coran hummed and moved to the console. “Yes, well, we’ll see. Hold still, now.”

Shiro sighed, used to this by now. They all were. Anytime anyone had anything from a bump on the head to a cold, it was on the table to get a full analysis. That wasn’t including the dozen or so times they’d all done this just to give Coran a proper human baseline for each. At least he didn’t have to stay perfectly still like most medical scanners on Earth. 

Thankfully, he could talk while he was scanned.  Shiro turned his gaze to Allura. “I’m sorry for losing out on the Andraxian’s magic, Princess. I know you were hoping to learn from them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Allura said. She stepped next to him, lips pressed together tightly. “I have nothing to learn from anyone who would kidnap and interrogate an ally, no matter the gain. Especially given the topic they were interested in. I will not have my paladins treated in such a way.”

Shiro smiled, and his eyes slid over to the rest of the team. “I agree with that.”

Lance’s eyes flashed with mischief. “I mean, unless you’re into that. No judgment.” He waggled his brows.

Next to him, Hunk groaned and covered his face. “Oh, dude.”

It was on the tip of Shiro’s tongue to scold Lance for the comment. It wasn’t appropriate, and Shiro always tried to get them to act like professionals and paladins.

Today, that didn’t come out.

Instead, Shiro started to laugh. Hard. He curled in on himself, eyes closed as he chuckled, and he couldn’t stop even when he tried. “Well, can’t say I haven’t thought it, but that’s really more of your thing.  That’s what happened with Nyma?” he asked, glancing at Lance with a grin.

Everyone froze. Shiro continued to snicker, even as his heart rate spiked.

Had he really just said that? He never shared those kinds of details. Never wanted to, especially to everyone. Including Allura and Coran. 

“Eugh,” Keith groaned.  “The mental image. What do you mean you’ve thought about it?”

Pidge’s nose crinkled. “You know, I did not need to learn that about you today.” 

Eyes wide, Hunk stared at Lance.  “That’s not- that’s a joke, right?  That’s not what you were doing. Tell me that wasn’t what you were doing.”

Looking at everyone’s reactions, Allura’s brows rose. “I’m going to assume this is something personal in nature you’re alluding to.”

And Lance-

Lance looked like Christmas had come early.

“You’re laughing!” He crowed, chest puffed out. “I finally got you!”

Still snickering, Shiro covered his mouth, but couldn’t cut off his laughter. “I usually find you funny. I do know what a meme is, you know. I just have a reputation to keep up. We all do.” Then the smile finally dropped off his face as he was able to stop. “I didn’t mean to say that. Or that. I can’t- why am I still talking?  What’s wrong with me?”

Shiro’s stomach sank to the floor as panic fully overtook his amusement. He looked at Coran, eyes wide.

“Give me a moment,” Coran said, picking each word carefully. “The scan isn’t designed to work while someone’s laughing. That’s a bit beyond it’s abilities. You’re having trouble stopping yourself from talking?”

Shiro opened his mouth, then closed it. “I- I feel fine. But things are coming out. Even when I don’t mean to say them. I can’t stop.  I didn’t mean to talk about my sex li-” His eyes slammed shut and he took a deep breath. 

Pidge stepped closer, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “That’s not good. Are you saying all your thoughts aloud?”

“No, not quite. I’ve thought things and not said them. It’s more like the things I’m saying aren’t coming out right.” Shiro’s brows furrowed as a thought occurred. 

Oh. Oh no.

Heart clenching, Shiro concentrated. “I’m- My name is- My favorite color is-”

I’m not human. My name is Keith. My favorite color is orange.

None of it would come out.

“You can’t lie, can you?” Hunk said. His hands worked at the ends of his headband as sympathetic horror bloomed behind his eyes. “That’s what they did to you, and why they were so sure they could get you to talk. You wouldn’t be able to help it. That’s awful!”

No lies. No filter. No ability to censor himself, or keep anything private.

Shiro bit down on his bottom lip and gripped hard at the edge of the table. “Coran? Please tell me you can tell what they did. I don’t like this.”

The last few words came out quiet, edged with panic that Shiro normally would never let them hear.

He sounded scared.

Immediately, Keith moved to his side and wrapped his fingers around Shiro’s wrist. “It’s okay. We’ll fix this.”

Coran waved his hand, and multiple screens popped up around the console. Each showed scrolling data in Altean script, and one showed an outline of Shiro’s body, minus the metal arm. “Your scans look normal. Mostly. There are faint traces of a sedative. It would explain the headache, certainly, but there’s nothing here that could cause anything like what Shiro is experiencing.”

“But the Andraxians have their own form of alchemy,” Allura said, one hand resting over his mouth. Her eyes were all too understanding. No doubt she empathized with how much Shiro must hate this. She played her emotional cards close to her chest as well. “There might be some magic at play.”

“Can you fix it?” Shiro asked, sitting up again. “This can’t stay. If I was captured like this, they could get everything out of me without even trying. Or they could just ask while we fought. And I need to be able to lie to you all too.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. Already, Shiro couldn’t keep control of his damn mouth.

Lance’s shoulders slumped, dismay replacing his earlier glee. “Why do you need to lie to us? We’re a team.”

“Lie is a strong word,” Shiro said, more to his lap than to anyone else. “I need to be able to keep my thoughts to myself. It’s a matter of privacy, and of working in a group. Polite lies. I don’t want you all to know every thought that comes through my head. You’ll look at me differently.”

Why was he still talking? Shiro closed his mouth with an audible click as his heart pounded painfully. It wasn’t that he couldn’t stop himself. It was that it felt normal to just keep talking. He didn’t notice he was saying more than he wanted to until he finished. All of it just came out like word vomit, and tasted just as bitter.

This had to be fixed. Now.

Shiro looked up at Allura, outright begging with his eyes.

Allura bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know anything that will help off the top of my head. It sounds like something I should be able to do, but it’ll take time for me to look it up. This is beyond my knowledge and current ability.  I’m sorry.”

“That’s disappointing.”

Hurt flashed behind Allura’s eyes as her shoulders slumped.

Immediately, Shiro held up his hands, heart clenching at the sight. “No, I mean - I’m disappointed it’ll take that long. Not disappointed in you personally. I’m sorry, I-” He covered his face in both his hands and groaned. “I wish I could shut the hell up.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Allura said. She reached out and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You still look tired, if I’m being honest.” There was a pause, probably as she realized the humor of what she’d just said, but then she pushed on. “The sedative is probably in your system, still. Why don’t you go back to your room for a while and rest up.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” Shiro froze, then groaned. “You know what? Yes, that’s a good excuse. I’ll do that.” He pushed himself up to his feet, nearly crashing into both Keith and Allura in the process. “Hopefully this will be sorted out tonight. Preferably before dinner, when I’ll have to talk again.”

Pidge pushed up her glasses, her eyes cold and dangerous. “If Allura can’t find anything quickly, we can contact the Andraxians again and get an answer. They certainly owe us that much.”

Shiro flashed her a smile. “Please don’t kill anyone.”

“No promises.”

Fair enough. Shiro nodded to them all. “I’ll see you all in a few hours.” He avoided their gazes as much as possible as he left, but he couldn’t help but catch Lance’s look as he slipped out the door.

It was downright calculating.

Shiro’s heart caught with fear, and he picked up his pace down the hallway to try and put as much distance between them and himself as possible. Hopefully no one would try to take advantage, but if anyone was going to make a joke out of this, it was Lance. Maybe that wasn’t very diplomatic, but Shiro was incapable of being diplomatic at the moment.

As the door to his room safely closed behind him, Shiro leaned his back against it and stared up at the ceiling.

“Fuck.”

***

About an hour later, there was a knock on the door.

Shiro closed his eyes and dropped his pad into his lap.  “Yes?” He called, unable to disguise the trepidation in his voice.  At least he was conscious enough of his condition to physically stop himself from saying more.

The door opened, and Lance stood there with a cheerful smile.  He had a container in one hand, and what looked like a pack of cards in the other.  “Hey, how are you feeling?” Before Shiro could answer, Lance’s eyes went wide and he shook his head.  “Sorry, sorry. You don’t have to say. I meant physically. Still have a headache?”

Shiro’s shoulders sagged with relief as he was able to swallow back his immediate reply.  ‘Terrified’ wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was the most honest response. “Still a little bleary, but that could be the lack of sleep.”

Yeah, that wasn’t really better.

Shit.

Wincing, Lance walked in and set the box down on the side of the bed, next to Shiro’s hip.  “Well, that’s better than before. No more of the gross nap taste, right? I hate that. The fuzzy feeling is the worst, and it feels like it takes hours to wake back up.”

The question was rhetorical, so Shiro was able to hold back his answer without much effort.  Instead, he picked up the box and flipped the lid. Immediately, a sweet smell wafted out, filling his nose.  The bottom of the box was covered in a layer of cookies. “What’s this for?”

“I know dinner is soon, but you haven’t eaten since that early breakfast we had.  I thought you might be hungry.”

“Not particularly,” Shiro replied, though he picked up one of the cookies.  From the color of it, it was the same recipe as the one Hunk had made last week.  It had a hint of spice to it, which Shiro had enjoyed. These, however, were not the uniform size and shape that Hunk had made.  A couple of them were smaller and decidedly crispier, while others were pale and large. “Did you make these?”

Lance snorted, a smile curling at the side of his mouth.  “You can tell, huh? Yeah, I made these. Hunk supervised, but they’re not up to his personal quality.  But you seemed to like them when we had them last.”

“I did,” Shiro replied, then paused.  He picked his head up to meet Lance’s eyes more directly, his own lips pressed thin.  “Am I being buttered up because Allura didn’t find a solution?”

Eyes wide, Lance put a delicate hand over his chest.  “I can’t do something nice because you’re in a bad situation?”  But when Shiro just continued to stare, Lance sighed. “Yeah, that’s part of it.  She looked up all she could on truth spells, but that’s not really how Altean alchemy seems to work.  I mean, they do have ways, but not what’s happening to you. It’s more like watching the memories as the subject thinks about it, to compare against what they say.”

Shit.  Shiro sighed as his shoulders slumped.  “I figured. My luck isn’t that good. And if Haggar knew how to do this, I hope I’d remember it.”

Lance winced.  “Um. Yeah. That’s part of why.  But I also had another reason.” He paused, then nudged the box.  “You didn’t answer if you liked them or not.”

“I do.  They’re different from what I’m used to, but that’s interesting.  I’ve had spicy hot chocolate before and liked it, and these aren’t too different.”  Shiro closed the lid tightly, jaw clenched tightly. “But I don’t really want them if you’re just trying to get personal information out of me.  I don’t want you here.”

Almost immediately, he regretted the words.  But it was too late, and Shiro couldn’t stop himself.

Lance took a step back, swallowing hard.  “You think I’m here for- Oh. Yeah. That makes sense, sorry.  I’ll go.”

Wincing, Shiro took a deep breath.  “Not- I don’t want anyone here. It’s not that I don’t want you here personally.  Except-” His eyes widened, and he bit down hard on his tongue. “Sorry.”

The hurt didn’t leave Lance’s eyes.  “Except,” he repeated, much more flatly.  “Okay. I get it. Is there someone else you’d want to talk to, or do you want to be left alone?”

I want to be left alone, is what Shiro wanted to say.

What came out was, “please don’t leave mad.”

Lance’s lips pressed together as he stared at Shiro.  His finger tapped at the side of his leg, like he couldn’t quite manage to stay still.  “I’m not mad.”

“It’s not fair I have to be honest and you get to lie.”  Shiro put the cookies down next to him, then patted the bed.  “You’re upset, at least. What I said came out rudely. The words are the most direct translation of my thoughts, not what communicates how I’m feeling best.  Can I start over?”

Slowly, a little reluctantly, Lance sat down and nodded.  “Yeah. I mean, I get it if you’re mad too. You ran in here to try and wait out your condition.  I probably should have let it be and just sent you a note.”

“That would have been better.”  Shiro winced, then held up a finger.  “Stop talking. Let me go now. Okay?”

Lance nodded again, gaze on his lap.

Closing his eyes, Shiro took a deep breath, and concentrated on keeping his mouth shut until he was sure what he was saying would come across the way he meant.  “I’m a little more nervous of you than of the others right now. I think the fact that I can’t hide my honest reactions is more tempting to you, since you’ve had a positive response, and you aren’t as private as many of us.  I also saw the way you reacted earlier, and it scares me. Whatever you would want to know would likely be harmless. You don’t mean to damage anyone. I can easily imagine you asking ‘Truth or Dare’ type questions, because it doesn’t actually hurt anyone and it would be funny from an outside perspective.  That’s not necessarily bad, but I don’t want that. That’s why you’re ‘except’.”

Still looking down at his lap, Lance nodded.  He was silent otherwise.

Shiro’s stomach sank.  “I’m sor-”

“Don’t be.  I’m thinking too.”  Lance took a deep breath.  “You’re right. And if you have to be honest, I’m going to be too.  It’s tempting to take advantage. I did think about it, for a second.  Not the way you’re thinking. It’s because I never knew you think I’m funny.  Once in a while you’ll join in the fun, but usually you try and tell me to knock it off.”

Oh.  Shiro looked over Lance’s face, his stomach cold.  “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s that I want to be professional and reliable for you all.”  He bit down on his tongue, cutting off further words. But he looked at the way Lance wouldn’t pick up his head, and let the words keep flowing.  “I don’t know how to include myself. It’s not as much fun when your CO wants to play, right? It’s best for me to stay back.”

“You- Shiro!”  Lance’s eyes went wide with dismay.  “We want you to join in too! You’re not just our CO.  You’re our friend. It doesn’t hurt your command to hang out with us.  You know that, right?”

“No.”  Shiro winced.  “Please stop asking rhetorical questions.”

Nodding, Lance tapped on his thigh again. “Yeah, sorry.  Habit. You’re right that at first it sounded funny, but then I kept thinking.  You said you usually find me funny, which means you usually hide it.”

Shiro curled in slightly on himself, watching Lance through his bangs as he waited.

Reaching out, Lance put a hand on Shiro’s arm.  “You’re very private. And that’s okay. I don’t know why you are, if it’s just your personality or if it’s learned.  But I was also thinking about how we don’t know much of what you like. What your favorite foods are, what music you like, what movies you want to watch, what you think is funny.  Keith probably knows, but you don’t share that stuff with us. You let everyone else decide instead. So I brought the cookies to talk to you about them.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed as he looked down at the box.  “Did you think I lied? I told you already I liked them.”

“No, not-”  Lance’s lips pressed together.  Leaning back on his hands, he looked Shiro over with a sharp, sniper-like eye.  “Are they your favorite?”

“No.”  Shiro winced and glanced around, like Hunk would appear from the shadows and be insulted.  It was ridiculous - not everything Hunk could make had to be his favorite. He didn’t think it had to be.  But it still felt like a way to be vaguely negative. ‘Well, it’s not my favorite’ sounded like a roundabout way of saying he didn’t enjoy something.  “They’re good. They’re fine.”

Lance didn’t break his direct stare. “Which are your favorites?”

It wasn’t something Shiro had thought about in a long time, but the answer came unbidden.  “I really like those sugar cookies you can get for free at the grocery store. The ones for kids?  I used to buy a couple of packages of them each time I was out.” 

That made Lance’s brows wing up, but he smiled.  “You have a gourmet chef around and those are still your favorite?”  But when Shiro opened his mouth to reply, he held up a hand. “That’s not a bad thing.  I’m- okay, yeah, I’m teasing you. But I like knowing that about you. So why not say so?”

Shiro tapped his fingers against the side of the box as he considered.  “I don’t know. It’s never felt important. Has it ever come up? Besides, I didn’t want to upset Hunk.”

“You won’t upset him.  He might get competitive or try to make a better version, but he won’t be mad at you.”  Lance nudged Shiro’s hip. “That’s what I mean, though. You keep this stuff to yourself even when you don’t need to.  And I don’t like that this makes you, but maybe you don’t have to be so scared of us. You don’t have to lie.”

Ah, right.  Lance had taken that the hardest, hadn’t he?

All of this wasn’t to try and wring personal information out of Shiro.  That was a side effect, but what Lance really wanted was for Shiro to feel comfortable opening up to the team.

Shiro wasn’t sure that was possible for him.  He’d never been someone to loudly announce his feelings to a room, even with people he trusted.  And if he had to be honest with himself, which he did, he could admit that his past year hadn’t helped.

But there wasn’t a risk.  Shiro could share those things.  At least one person really wanted him to.  Maybe partly because it meant Shiro would laugh at more of Lance’s jokes, but also just because he wanted Shiro to feel like part of the team.

Reaching out, Shiro clapped Lance on the shoulder and gave him a solid squeeze.  “I understand what you mean. Thank you, Lance. I appreciate the sentiment.” 

Lance cracked a dry grin.  “Which is a nice way of saying you still don’t want to.”

“I fucking hate this,” Shiro replied, without even trying to censor himself.  It was worth it to watch Lance’s eyes go wide at the vehement tone. “But you’re right.  This is safe. And it helps knowing that.”

Squeezing Shiro’s arm, Lance raised his brows.  “I know this situation sucks. And we don’t make it easier on you, with how everyone had to comment on the last one.”

Shiro winced and colored.  “Yes, well, it would have been difficult not to.”  He scrubbed over his face with one hand, eyes tightly closed.  “I can’t believe I admitted that one. Let’s not make any sex jokes until this is better.”

“No promises, but I’ll try.”  Lance shot him a grin, then nudged him in the side.  “I thought you might want to pick a movie. Something you find really funny, even if you usually keep it to yourself.  It was nice to hear you laugh.” Lance stuck his hand in the container and snuck a cookie as well.

Shiro curled around the container.  “Hey, those are mine.”

Lance only snorted and took a big bite.  “I made them. This is your cookie tax.”

“If I’m being taxed, I want fair governmental representation.  I didn’t vote for you.”

Cheeks bulging with his snack, Lance stuck his nose in the air and stood up.  “You don’t vote for kings.”

A chuckle escaped Shiro as he followed.  “If I went around claiming to be king because some moistened bint lobbed a sword at me, they’d throw me away.”

“No, an alien robot lion gave you a look over and decided you’d be the leader.  That’s much better.”

This time, Shiro didn’t bother to muffle his chuckles.  Instead he let out a loud laugh, even as he kept close guard of his cookies.  When Lance reached for another, he put up a foot, soundly blocking him. “No way.  My cookies.”

Lance let out a wordless whine and reached again, but Shiro snapped his knees together, trapping it between them.  “Ow!”

It was childish, and impulsive, and completely beyond his normal dignity.

But Shiro stuck out his tongue at Lance.    

Lance stared, then let out a shocked laugh of his own.  He went limp, draping himself over Shiro’s bent knees. “You’re very mean.”

“And yet I have all the cookies.”  Shiro took one out and took a big bite, grinning.  “Maybe not my favorite, but still very good. Despite some baking issues.”

Mouthing the words back mockingly, Lance grinned.  “See? This is nice.”

Shiro’s expression softened.  “Yeah, it’s nice.” Pulling out another cookies, he held it up for Lance to take.  That Lance elected to take a bite out of it rather than take it wasn’t surprising.

“Does this mean you picked what movie you want to watch?”  Lance wiped crumbs off his mouth, then took another bite from the cookies.

“Yeah, I think so.”  Shiro knocked their shoulders together.  “And, hey, Lance?”

“Hmm?”

Shiro offered him a smile.  “I do think you’re funny. You’re a great member of the team, and you’re my friend, even if I sometimes wish you’d pick more appropriate times to joke or flirt.”

Eyes bright, Lance swallowed hard.  Then he ducked his head, but it didn’t hide the smile.  “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Lance rested his chin on Shiro’s knees, his whole face bright and earnest.  “You know you’re still my hero, right? Not the way you were before I knew you.  More, really. I admire you a lot, even if I wish you’d not worry so much about the chain of command and just have fun with us.”

Shiro’s stomach flipped, and his cheeks went red, like they couldn’t lie either.  He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice cracked. “Um. I didn’t- thank you.”

“Are you actually getting shy about this?”

“Yes.”  Shiro froze, then groaned and pulled his pillow over his face.  “N- Shit. Go away.”

Lance only laughed and patted his knee.  Then he pushed off, letting Shiro get up.  “Alright, c’mon, Shiro. Let’s get the movie started.  I think I know what you’re going to pick.”

Yeah, Monty Python did sound good.  Shiro nodded and sat up, which made the pillow fall away.

As he got up, Lance tilted his head.  “One last question.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you ticklish?”

Shiro shut his mouth so hard his teeth jammed together.  Rather than reply, he threw the pillow at Lance’s laughing face.

Yeah, this was going to be hard to deal with.

But Shiro was safe.  Even if he slipped, he was okay.  He was safe.

And if Lance tried to tickle him, Shiro would throw him across the room.  It all worked out.


	2. Chapter 2

“Keith?”  Shiro stepped into the training deck, clenching and unclenching his metal hand.  “Are you here yet?”

From his spot against the right wall, Keith waved and pushed himself to his feet.  “Yeah, I’m here. Took you a bit. Got sidetracked?” 

Shiro gave a thin smile.  “A bit. Hunk asked if he could have a fully honest review of a few recipes he’s been working on.”

Snorting, Keith stepped into the center of the room, meeting Shiro there.  “Does he regret it yet?”

“I don’t think he knew what he was getting into.”

Hunk had at first been excited to have Shiro’s completely honest opinion.  He claimed it was the best way to improve his craft, which was most likely true.  But it had quickly become apparently that Shiro’s tastes came from microwave meals.  He’d lived on them, fast food, and other quick, thoughtless meals for too long. Now, everything else tasted off.

That hadn’t exactly been what Hunk wanted to hear.

Keith’s lips curled at the edges, the exact same smile he wore whenever he was about to get up to mischief.  “Well, if that’s the worst thing everyone’s asking you right now, that’s not too bad.”

“Yeah, I think they’re making an effort.”  

Lance might have talked to everyone, or else they’d had some kind of group meeting.  The team had been very conscious of asking general or rhetorical questions, or at least directing them elsewhere.  It helped a lot, when Shiro wasn’t the focus of the question. His natural inclination to answer and help, combined with the absent-minded nature of the spell, made him extra susceptible to casually asked questions.

Nodding, Keith looked him over.  “Good. Should I even ask how you’re holding up?  I was surprised to even see you at dinner.”

The twist to the question made Shiro smile.  Trust Keith to figure out the loophole of Shiro’s condition.  “Better, actually. Lance talked to me about it. I was nervous, but he made some good points.  As long as no one is actively angling for information, I think I can manage. It’s not so bad for everyone to know little things about me.”

There was plenty Shiro didn’t want them to know.  What little he remembered of the year with Haggar would only hurt.  Shiro had occasionally uncharitable thoughts or frustrations that didn’t need to be spoken.  His personal life - romantic, familial, or otherwise - was his to keep close.

But that wasn’t what kept coming out.  It was jokes, laughter, opinions.

So far.

Shiro spun around the room, looking for any bots or other training equipment.  There was nothing immediately visible, so he turned to face Keith. “Just a spar, today?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”  Keith slipped into a casual fighting stance, armored arms up.  “It’s been a long day. I didn’t want to do anything too complex.”

Raising his own arms, Shiro nodded and started to circle Keith.  The movements were matched steadily. “Alright.”

Then he darted forward.

Shiro swung for Keith’s head.  The blow was ducked, and Keith returned with a sweep to Shiro’s ankles.  He jumped it and moved back. 

Keith kept up the attack, aiming a blow to Shiro’s chest, and another to his shoulder.  The first was blocked, the second dodged. Shiro tried to grab hold of Keith’s wrist, but he moved to quickly.   Instead, his hand closed around air. When Shiro turned it into a strike at Keith’s shoulder, that was blocked as well.

Despite the fast pace, the tone of the fight was casual.  They traded punches and blocks like they bantered. There was an ease to it, a casual grace.  Block punch dodge dodge knee kick block jump.

Finally, Shiro started to pick up the speed.  He brought an elbow back, catching Keith in the shoulder.  When Keith stumbled, Shiro pulled back his right hand and made to punch Keith’s head.

Only to suddenly pause and then veer away.  Shiro froze mid-swing, not sure why his body had suddenly gotten out of control.  His feint-

Oh, feint.

Keith continued to move, confused but undeterred by Shiro’s sudden self-sabotage.  He kicked Shiro hard, right in the middle of the chest. The strike would normally have been easy to block, powerful but obvious.  But Shiro was too off balance, and the blow caught him dead on. His feet left the ground, if only an inch or two, and he crashed down onto the mat with a pained grunt.

Yeah, that was going to bruise.

Keith’s eyes widened, and he knelt next to Shiro.  “Are you okay? What happened?”

Groaning, Shiro rolled over onto his side.  “The spell won’t let me fake a blow. Shit. Ow.”

“That’s not good.”  Keith looked him over carefully, a wrinkle forming between his brows.  “Need a minute?”

Shiro smacked his hand away, at least mostly good-natured.  “No, no, I’m fine. A bit winded. You’re still way stronger than you should be.  That the Galra blood?”

As soon as the question was out, Shiro bit his tongue.  He had assumed that over the past several months, but never asked.  Keith had been so off-balance. His time with the Blade of Marmora had seemed to ease some of his worries, but Shiro had never wanted to push and make Keith uncomfortable.  It didn’t matter. Of course it didn’t. Keith was his best friend, and it was just a curiosity. Nothing worth making him uncomfortable.

Luckily, Keith only raised a brow, and didn’t look disturbed by the question.  “Probably. You’re not the heaviest person I’ve lifted off their feet.”

“Yeah?  Who?” Shiro pushed himself up onto his elbows and winced.  Yeah, he’d be bruised in the morning.

“Regris.”  Keith swallowed hard.  “He died.”

Shiro’s heart clenched.  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Holding out a hand to help Shiro up, Keith shrugged.  “Don’t be. Not your fault. It’s pretty common with the Blade.  You should know that.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry you went through that.”  Shiro took the hand and climbed to his feet. “I’m glad you came back.  I used to worry all night that you’d be next. Another round?”

It wasn’t until Shiro looked back at Keith’s wide-eyed stare that he realized what he’d said.

Turning, Shiro took hold of Keith’s elbow and gave it a gentle squeeze.  “Is it such a shock that I worried about you?”

“No, I guess not.”  Keith didn’t quite meet Shiro’s eyes as he got back in position.  “I know you worry. About everyone, including me. The wording was just…”

“Unusually blunt?”

“Pretty much.”

Shiro gave a bland smile.  “Not much I can do about that.”  He slid into another defensive position, which made his chest ache.  Yeah, that was going to be a colorful bruise in the morning. “It’s in the past anyway.”

Nodding, Keith looked Shiro over.

Then he struck, with the same sudden, direct speed as a snake.

Shiro was ready for it, though.  He ducked under the blow, then tried to grab the leg as it passed.  But Keith was too fast, so his leg slipped out of Shiro’s fingers.

Instead, Shiro swiped down at Keith’s exposed side.  He hit, though Keith twisted enough that the strike was glancing.  It was still enough to knock him back a step. 

Shiro followed, keeping up his advantage.  This time, he didn’t try to feint, but instead threw less of his weight behind the next punch.  When Keith dodged it, as expected, he moved into the right spot for Shiro to kick out. But Keith blocked, taking the blow on his arm, and wrapped it around Shiro’s knee instead.  He twisted, nearly pulling Shiro off his remaining foot and locking up the joint.

That stopped Shiro in his tracks, and made it so each time he moved, he strained the joint.

So Shiro didn’t move.  Instead he let his weight fall forward, right on top of Keith.

For all Keith had just said he could lift Shiro, he wasn’t expecting all 200-plus pounds of him to crash down at that angle.  He went down in less than a second, sending them both crashing to the mat.

Shiro changed the angle, so his knee and legs were wrapped around Keith’s arm, then threw his weight to the side.  That pinned one arm down to the mat, no matter how hard Keith tried to struggle. It also left Shiro open to attacks, which Keith took full advantage off.  Ducking his head, Shiro took the blows to his shoulder and chest, then grabbed hold of Keith’s other arm in his right hand. He pressed that down next to Keith’s head.

The final result was Keith flat on his back, one arm twisted painfully between Shiro’s thigh and calf, the other pinned by his ear.  Shiro sat victoriously on his chest, gleefully ignoring Keith’s furious kicking.

Then, a terrible, wonderful idea occurred to Shiro.

“Hey, Keith.”

Keith stilled, cheeks flushed with exertion and hair tangled and wild from how hard he was struggling.  “What?”

Leaning forward, Shiro positioned himself right over Keith’s face, barely half a foot up.

Then he brought his free hand to his mouth and blew a loud raspberry.

“Ugh!”  Keith struggled harder, turning his face away.  “Don’t! You’re going to get your spit on me.”

“I wo-”  Brows up, Shiro grinned behind his palm.  “Oh, I can’t lie. Whoops. Yeah, I am.” Then he did it again, and laughed at Keith’s howl of rage.

Keith’s feet continued to scrape against the back of Shiro’s armor, as he tried to kick himself free.  One knee impacted hard, then the other, but it didn’t deter Shiro. He’d take the pain if it meant his victory.

Finally, the struggled slowed, then stopped.  Keith went limp, though he continued to glare darkly up at Shiro.  “You’re the worst.”

Shiro only shrugged.  “You’re lucky I didn’t dump a water bottle on your head again.”

“That would have been better!”

Laughing again, Shiro straightened up.  “Yeah? Oh, well, this was fun. I won, it wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable for you.  If I let you up, are you going to try and get me back?”

Keith stared up, eyes narrowed and intense.  “No.”

“Just because I can’t lie doesn’t mean I stopped being able to tell when others are.”

Groaning, Keith dropped his head back onto the mat.  “Ugh. Fine. Get off. You’re heavy, and your legs are stopping the blood flow to my arm.”

Oh, whoops.  Shiro finally got off and slumped down next to Keith.  His back and chest throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but at least he’d evened the score.

Keith sat up so abruptly that Shiro tensed, sure he was going to pounce again.  But he just rolled his arm and made a face. “Ugh. It has that static feel.”

“Whoops,” Shiro said, with absolutely no inflection.  Thankfully, he hadn’t actually meant to squeeze Keith’s arm that hard.  It was just a side effect of keeping him down, so he could be properly sarcastic about it.  “Want water?”

Still working his arm, Keith nodded.  “Yeah. Thanks.”

Shiro pushed himself up with a groan and grabbed two of the packs.  The threw one to Keith, and stuck the little straw into his own before sitting down.  “My joints are starting to get creaky. Ow,”

“You’re getting old, apparently.”  Keith eyed him as he took a sip. “Soon you’ll be able to tell if a storm is coming.”

“I already can.”  Shiro slammed his mouth shut, but it was too late.  Keith’s interest was already narrowing in on him, so he sighed.  “The scar on my face, and one of my legs. I guess both of them healed awkwardly, because I can feel pressure changes.  Not bad, just a bit.”

Keith chewed on his straw as his eyes jumped from Shiro’s lap to his face.  “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Kicking out, Keith hit him gently in the hit.  “Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry you went through that,” he echoed, with just a hint of mockery in his voice.

…Yeah, that was annoying.  But Shiro couldn’t argue it, either, so he just shrugged.

In the end, it was Keith who sighed.  “Sorry. I shouldn’t push for information like that.  You don’t have to explain anything you say until Allura fixes this.  You know that, right?”

“Kinda hard not to.  It’s part of the spell.”  Shiro held up a hand as guilt flashed behind Keith’s eyes.  “It’s harmless. Besides, all you did was look curious. I wouldn’t be able to resist wanting clarification either.  It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.  I don’t care what Lance told you.  This sucks, and you’re allowed to hate it and refuse to talk about anything until it’s over.”  Keith flopped down onto the mat, his expression twisted darkly. His tone was surprisingly vehement, considering that Lance hadn’t tried to force anything out of Shiro.  He’d just made a point.

Shiro settled down next to him, hands folded comfortably on his chest.  “I know, and I appreciate you saying it. I don’t like this at all, and I don’t like that I can’t pretend it doesn’t bother me.”  He looked over at Keith, taking in the sharp profile of his nose, the furrow of his brow, the thin press of his lips. “Why are you so mad at Lance?  He didn’t do anything.”

Keith’s fingers dug into the fabric below him, depressing it inward like he had sharp claws.  “Because you don’t deserve to have your secrets laid out for everyone to see.”

Well, Lance hadn’t done that.  All he’d asked about was Shiro’s cookie tastes, which wasn’t exactly something Shiro was protective of.

“Keith.  What’s wrong?”

Still staring up at the ceiling, Keith’s face twisted.  Then he sighed and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

Shiro pushed himself up onto one arm.  “Keith.”

Both hands came up to card through Keith’s hair.  “It’s nothing. It’s just- I get how tempting it is.  That’s all. There’s things I’ve wondered, but I never wanted to ask it of you, but I could know.”

Oh.  Shiro’s stomach dropped, but he didn’t move away.  “About the year I was gone?”

“In part.”  Keith finally looked over, gaze dark with guilt.  “When we were fighting, you couldn’t feint. But could you hold back and let me win?”

Shiro stared.

Then he burst into laughter.

“Hey!”  Keith sat up as well, frowning at him.  “I’m serious, Shiro.”

Waving a hand at him, Shiro covered his face with the other, still snickering.  “I know you are. That’s what makes it funny. I think that’s the most ‘Keith’ thing you’ve ever said to me.  I’m magically forced into honesty and you’re worried I’ve been going easy on you.”

A flush started to creep over Keith’s cheeks.  “I just thought- you fought so much in that year, so you had to have so much more experience, but when we came back it didn’t feel that different.  How was I supposed to ask that? What if I gave you a flashback just because of my dumb curiosity?”

The snickers softened, though they didn’t completely die down.  Instead, Shiro took hold of Keith and pulled him in for a close hug.  “I do hold back in spars, because it’s sparring. The same way you didn’t pull out your knife when I have you pinned.  I don’t want to really hurt you. But you still give me a run for my money, because you fight fast and smart. That wasn’t common, from what I remember.  Does that make you feel better?”

“No,” Keith muttered into Shiro’s shoulder.  From the sound of his voice, he was probably blushing, but he did lean into the embrace.  “Fine, I guess. I shouldn’t have even considered it, though. That’s why I originally asked you to spar.”

Shiro’s brows winged up as he thought back through the fight.  “You never pushed, though. The one big hit you got on me was because of my inattention and surprise, not because you were trying to force me to really fight.”

Nodding, Keith sighed.  “I chickened out.”

“So you’re apologizing to me for an impulse you had that you fought off?”

Keith shrugged.

Laughing again, Shiro buried his face in Keith’s hair.  “I adore you, you know that? Never change.”

Keith slumped more heavily against Shiro.  “I wasn’t planning on it. You’re really not mad?”

“Of course not.”  Shiro pulled back and put both hands on Keith’s shoulders so he could look him in the eye.  “First of all, you didn’t really do it. I’m not going to be your thought police. Even putting that aside, you could have just asked.  I wouldn’t have minded.” He used his left hand to knock Keith gently on the temple. “I get that we’re paladins, but you don’t have to hold yourself to such a moral code that you’re not even allowed bad thoughts.  You’re human.”

A smile curled up Keith’s lips, even as he ducked his head.  “Not really.”

“Halfway, at least.  That’s enough.” Shiro patted him once on the side of the head.  “We’re good. Any other questions you wanted to ask?”

Keith shook his head, still bashful.

“Alright then.”  Shiro pulled away and stood.  “Then we should finish up here.  I’m still feeling that first big hit, and Allura wanted to speak with me about what to do next.  You want to come with me?”

Brows up, Keith cocked his head.  “To talk with Allura? Why? I don’t know anything more about magic.”

Shiro offered a hand to help him up.  “I don’t think you’re an expert. I’d just like you there.”

As Keith climbed to his feet, he opened his mouth, then closed it.  After, he clenched his jaw like he wanted to physical fight any further urges to speak.

Smiling, Shiro shook his head.   “Go ahead and ask.”

“Why?” Keith burst out.  “Are you nervous? Is she going to test something on you?”

“I am, and no, I don’t think so.  We’re talking options.” Shiro smiled at him, soft and easy.  This was a truth he had no problem sharing. “I want you there because you’re my best friend, and you make me more comfortable when you’re around.  Because I know you’re on my side and looking out for me. And because I’m not very comfortable with this magic stuff, and I know Allura won’t try and harm me, but I’d still feel better if you came.”

Keith’s eyes shone as he nodded.  “I- yeah. I can do that. If you want.  Anytime, anywhere you want me to be there, you know I’ll come.”

“I know.”  Shiro clapped him on the shoulder.

He did.  It wasn’t always easy to ask.  Shiro usually felt like he shouldn’t.  But Lance was a stark reminder that sometimes the people around him wanted to know about him just because they cared.  In this particular case, where Keith could help keep him from saying too much, there was both utility and emotional need for company.  And it made Keith so damn happy to be asked, so why not?

Maybe that was the magic talking.  Maybe it was the result of the strange day.  But right now, Shiro was just happy to have his best friend at his side.

“Ready?” Keith asked.  “Or do you want to shower off first?”

“I- Shower.”  Shiro nearly bit his tongue on the sudden change in answer.  “I don’t like looking messy in front of the Princess.”

This time, it was Keith’s turn to laugh at him, if fondly.  “And that’s a very ‘Shiro’ thing. You know she doesn’t care.”

Shiro nodded, because he did.  It wasn’t about Allura’s preferences, not really.  It was that she was a higher station than him. He always preferred to look together, especially in front of someone of a higher station.

“C’mon, let’s go.”  Keith started for the bathrooms, still grinning.

Shiro followed after, a hint of color to his cheeks, but smiling as well.


	3. Chapter 3

So deep into the night cycle, the kitchen was dark and cold.

Shiro clutched his cup in his hands, folded around as if to absorb any warmth left.  The dark liquid wasn’t quite coffee, but it had a slight energizing effect. Shiro usually limited himself to a cup in the morning, and then mostly when he’d had a bad night and needed the help.  Kicking coffee the first time had been hell, and he wasn’t interested in a second round of cold turkey, if something went wrong.

But today he’d earned another cup.

Shiro sipped from his mug, then made a face.  It was cold, and he was mostly getting dregs now.

He should get another, but that required moving and acting.  Right now, Shiro just wanted to sit.

No change. 

Allura had tried everything she could.  Despite her discomfort with using her magic untested in front of the team, she’d done her best to break the spell.  Between her and Coran, they’d researched everything the Alteans had on truth spells (very little), and then come up with a wide variety of general dispelling magics.

Not a single one of them worked.

It was beginning to look like they’d have to go back to the Andraxians for help.

No one was happy about that.  

It wasn’t even that it hurt the team’s pride to go back to people who had wronged them in the first place.  That sucked, and the injustice of having to ask for a favor from the people who had kidnapped him burned in Shiro’s stomach.  But the worst part wasn’t the asking. It was that Shiro suspected he knew what they’d want in return.

Exactly why they’d done this to begin with.

Scrubbing over his face, Shiro took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.  His breathing echoed faintly in the empty room, making it extra eerie. The dim lights already made it feel unfamiliar, despite how many meals they’d taken at this table, but Shiro didn’t spend much time here alone.  Usually someone was around, making the space feel lived in. Communal.

Late at night, when everyone was asleep and the lights were dim, the castle could feel truly haunted.  Not by literal ghosts, but an entire culture, now gone.

…Yeah, Shiro was getting morose.

He sipped his coffee again.

Still disgusting.  But it was something for Shiro to make and do with his hands that even he couldn’t screw up.

A door opened behind Shiro.  The noise was loud in the otherwise dead silent room.  Shiro jolted and clutched his cup to his chest, as if he could either use it as a weapon or protect it from whoever was entering.

Rubbing under his eyes, Hunk frowned back.  “Oh, hey. What are you doing up?”

“Moping,” Shiro answered.  Then he winced. “I mean- shit.  Yeah, I’m moping.”

Hunk yawned and nodded.  “Mmm. I don’t blame you.  Tonight’s a good time for moping.”

Nodding, Shiro raised his mug in bland salute.

Hunk shuffled in, his steps muffled by the bright yellow slippers he wore, until he could pull out a chair and sit down hard next to Shiro.  “Moping can be more fun together, though. That’s why Lance and I became friends at first, you know. We’d mutually complain about everything.   Really dramatically.”

A smile curled at Shiro’s lips, despite the darkness of his mood.  “I can see that. Lance probably draped over your back the whole time.”

“Or flopped over in my lap.  I don’t think he can raise objections without throwing himself across the nearest surface like a diva.”  Despite the teasing, Hunk’s smile and eyes were fond. “It helped, though. I think ranting to Lance is the only reason I didn’t have a heart attack the first semester at the Garrison.  The whole ‘compete for top dog, do whatever it takes to win’ attitude really screws with my anxiety.”

Shiro’s brows came together as he considered that.  “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. I never had that problem.”

Hunk shrugged.  “It’s good for some people.  Keith does well in that environment, right?  Other than people’s reactions to him doing well.  But he’s very independently driven, and his goals matched with what the Garrison wanted - do the best.  Be the best. Have good scores. Lance gets really motivated by that kind of system, too, but in practice it messes with him.  He freaks out when he doesn’t get to the top immediately, and it just makes it harder for him.”

That was a pretty fair assessment, from what Shiro understood.  He hadn’t known Lance or Hunk before Voltron. Maybe he’d run into them, especially while checking in on Keith, but they’d been just another set of cadet faces.  But he knew them know, and he knew the kinds of people who either succeeded or didn’t at the Garrison.

“I think,” Shiro murmured, half to his cup.  “That I was just eager to please. I found something I was good at, first without trying, and then I could see my hard work pay off.  When I started at the Garrison, I was more like Keith. I didn’t want to care. I wanted to only use the institution as far as it could take me to the skies.  But somewhere along the way it was validating. The structure made me steadier. And everyone told me how good I was doing.”

Then Shiro paused.

He looked up to see Hunk watching with sharp, bright eyes, nodding along encouragingly.

“Were you trying to get me monologuing?” Shiro asked sharply.

Hunk flushed and looked away. “No, it was an honest conversation.  I just… left it open and didn’t stop you when you started talking.”  He slumped back in his chair, hands twisted in his lap. “I know, I know, I’d hate it if I was in your shoes.  But it’s so hard not to ask, Shiro! I think we know the least about you out of everyone, and I like knowing about people.  I like knowing period.”

Still scowling, Shiro stood and rinsed out his mug to put it in the washer.  “That’s enough for now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Aww, don’t go because of me.”  Hunk stood as well, his expression falling.  “Shiro, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.”

Shiro took a deep breath, then let it go slowly.  His slammed his eyes shut to reel back in his temper.

Apparently his patience required lying, since he seemed to have none tonight.

“I know you don’t mean badly,” he finally said, voice still clipped.  Shiro couldn’t hide his irritation, which made this whole stupid situation worse.  “I just really don’t have the energy right now.”

There was a long silence, then Hunk sighed.  “Yeah. I understand that. Okay.” He shifted from foot to foot, then looked up again.  “But if you’re feeling anxious, I can help you. If you stay, I mean. Or, I guess I could try to help if you leave, still, but it’s way harder without being there.”

Shiro’s fingers curled around the mug as he rinsed, letting the hot water run over his hands.  “I’m not sure this is something you can fix, Hunk. Allura already couldn’t. Unless you’ve secretly been magic this whole time, I’m just shit out of luck.”

“Okay, no, I can’t make your problem go away.”  Hunk sighed and pulled off his headband so he could run his fingers through his hair.  “But I’ve been dealing with anxious thoughts and not sleeping for a long time. Basically all my life.  I’ve talked to specialists, and they were able to give me some tips. So I can’t fix the problem, and I can’t make your mental stuff vanish, but I can at least teach you some tools.”

Turning around to face Hunk, Shiro watched him carefully.  “You don’t have to make up for my honesty by telling me personal stuff, you know.”

Hunk’s head snapped up.  “I wasn’t even thinking like that.  That’s not what I mean. I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for a while, but it always felt awkward.  Like, ‘hey, Shiro, I can see you’re struggling under your own thoughts, why don’t you tell your old buddy Hunk all about it?’ didn’t seem like it would fly.”

Yeah, it really wouldn’t.

But right now, Shiro didn’t dare try to say that he was fine out loud.  He didn’t want proof that it was a lie.

“Please stay,” Hunk continued, his eyes wide and pleading.  “We want to help you. All of us do. This is something we can do for you.”

Shiro stared, his heart in his throat.  Then, slowly, he nodded. “I think I could use some help,” he finally said, then winced hard.  “Shit. I mean- thank you. I’m sorry I snapped. My temper’s a bit short at the moment, and I can’t do anything about it.”

Hunk winced.  “Yeah, that really sucks.  You can’t even be nice about it right now.  Ew.”

“Pretty much.”

Nodding, Hunk stepped over, rolling his sleeves up.  “Okay. The first order of business is to clear your head.  I’m betting right now you’re worrying, and then you’re worried your worrying will make you more worried, which does worry you more, and so on.  Right?”

It was a brutally accurate summation of how Shiro had ended up sitting alone at the table at ass o’clock.  Wincing, Shiro looked down at his feet. “That sounds right.”

“Okay, so you can’t fix an anxious spiral by thinking about it.  So we’re going to not think about it.” Hunk started to open cabinets, pulling out supplies.  “So we’re baking. How do you feel about brownies?”

Shiro blinked, thrown off balance.  “Um, generally positive. Hunk, you know I’m bad at this.  Is this really going to help?”

Glancing back over his shoulder, Hunk nodded.  “Yup. Because this doesn’t matter. It’s okay if we burn the brownies.  It’s okay if we forget the eggs and they don’t rise. They’re brownies. But you’ll use your hands and your brain and you’ll think about fake space chocolate rather than about magic.”

“At least, not for these brownies.”  Shiro paused, then clapped a hand over his mouth.  “Okay, yeah, anything else but more talking. Fine, let’s bake.”

Hunk nodded firmly.  “Good. On a scale of one to five, how bad is your headspace?”

Wincing, Shiro set his jaw against the immediate urge to answer.  “I don’t think I want to answer that.” Then, after another moment, he added, “and five being what?”

“I want to know how busy I should make you, not delve into your secrets.”  Hunk eyed him. “One being perfectly calm, five being a full on panic attack.”

Shiro’s jaw set.  He looked away and finally turned off the water.  “I think this method lacks nuance. Maybe a… a high three.” 

Dammit, not what he’d meant to say.

It wasn’t a high three. A high three was almost a four, and a four was one step below a panic attack.  Shiro wasn’t there yet. He remembered what it felt, standing in front of Sendak’s pod and choking on his own breath.  He didn’t feel good, but Shiro could talk and walk and focus. If it didn’t feel like it had then, it couldn’t be that bad.

But Shiro also couldn’t lie.

Hunk made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat.  “Okay, this needs more than a normal brownie mix, then. Come over here by the counter and get out bowls, will you?  Two good sized ones, and then one of the pans I use for baking. There’s one that’s nine inches long that’ll work best.”

Shiro stood in place, braced for comments, or further questions, or any kind of response to what he’d said.  But Hunk just busied himself in the fridge, pulling out handfuls of ingredients.

Slowly, inch by inch, his shoulders relaxed.  Once it was clear Hunk was absorbed, Shiro moved to follow the directions.  The two bowls were easy enough to find, since Shiro got them for group snacks often.  But he’d never had a use for the pan, so it took some search to finally find it (unhelpfully buried under several, smaller pans and wedged next to baking sheets.)

“This one?”  Shiro held it up for inspection.

Hunk smiled and gave him a thumbs up.  “That’s the one, thanks. Alright, so we’re going to make a more unique brownie tonight.  Ah!” He scowled at Shiro the second he opened his mouth. “We’ve discussed your baking skills already.  I know I’m making it harder. That’s not the point. I don’t care if you mess up baking the stupid brownies.  No circular arguments.”

Shiro shut his mouth.

“Good.  So we’re going to make marbled brownies instead.  It’s like… if you took a cheesecake and took brownies and they had beautiful babies that maybe took after one parent a little more, but are very much loved.”  Hunk set down the handful of ingredients and gestured Shiro over. “I’ll preheat the oven, and you start measuring. You should be able to recognize the butter, right?  We’re going to melt one cup of that and one of the little foil chocolate packets to start.”

Okay.  Right. Melting one cup of butter and some chocolate.  How hard could that be?

Shiro dug out a measuring cup, then moved to the container of butter.  It wasn’t in the neat sticks he remembered from the store, but jammed into a small, plastic box.  Which meant he had to use the cup to get a good measurement. At first he just tried to jam the whole thing in and scoop, but it was too hard and he only got chunks.  So instead he used a spoon to get the butter inside. After, he dug through the pile until he found a wrapped up square of what wasn’t actually chocolate - it was bright blue and smelled salty - but tasted close enough to it.  Then Shiro moved to the stove and turned on the heat, before dumping all the butter and the chocolate square inside.

“It works better if you break it up,” Hunk offered.  He stepped closer to peer over Shiro’s shoulder. “It’ll melt eventually, so it’s technically fine, but it’ll take forever.”

Shiro nodded slowly.  “Can’t I just turn up the heat?”

“If you want to burn your butter, sure.”

…Butter could be burned?

Despite his misgivings, Shiro used a spoon to jab into the chocolate until it broke apart.  Then he watched carefully as the whole thing slowly dissolved into a dark brown liquid in the pot.

“Alright, here.”  Hunk stepped away, then came back with a measuring cup full of powdered technically-not-cocoa.  “Add this next.”

Shiro took the cup and upturned it next, then coughed when he got a face-full of chocolate dust in his face.  “If we’re adding chocolate here, what was the point of the other kind?”

“It’s darker, so it has a different flavor.”  Hunk tilted his head, clearly thinking about how to explain himself.  “Okay, like, have you ever eaten chocolate covered pretzels or something?”

Thinking back, Shiro nodded slowly.  “Not in a long time, obviously, but yes.”

Hunk made a face as he leaned against the counter.  “Yeah, so, you probably don’t remember super clearly.  Um, when you have sweet things with salty, it makes the sweet taste stronger.  You get contrast, like putting white and black together.” He nodded to Shiro’s hair, a curl to his lips.

Oh, that made sense.  “So we’re making salty brownies?”

“We could, if we wanted to add, I don’t know, salted caramel or something.  But in this case, the first chocolate is bitter. Same thing. Like a mocha drink.”

This time, Shiro’s eyes lit up.  “Okay, that I understand.” It was a silly vice, but he’d always liked dessert coffees.  Not enough to get them regularly, especially not when they were so difficult to obtain at the Galaxy Garrison.  But when he was in town and hand some extra spending money, they were a fun reward for a long day, and a more interesting way to take his coffee.

Hunk’s brows rose as he opened his mouth.  But then he covered his face and groaned. “No.  Nope. I’m being good, see? No questions.”

Chuckling, Shiro patted him on the shoulder.  “I appreciate it. You can ask about my coffee preferences, but thank you for being thoughtful.”  When Hunk gave him a flat look, Shiro shrugged. “I went over this with Lance, earlier. There’s some stuff worth protecting that I don’t want to share.  But some stuff doesn’t really matter. It’s okay if you know I like mocha drinks.”

Finally, Hunk nodded, even as he tugged at the bottom of his sleep shirt.  “Okay. This is just supposed to make you more comfortable. I don’t want to mess that up.  Speaking of, let’s finish this up, then get started on the second batter.”

Second batter?  Shiro had just assumed they would kinda… put the cheesecake inside, somehow.  Oh, boy.

This time, Hunk just had him keep stirring as a bunch of other ingredients were added - mostly flour and sugar, he assumed.  The batter started to get thick and goopy, the way Shiro expected it to look from a box mix. “Can I try?” Shiro asked.

“Sure, yeah, let’s get you a smaller spoon-”

Shiro dipped his metal finger in the batter, then brought it to his mouth.

Pausing, Hunk huffed.  “Or that. But it’s on you if your tongue burns and you can’t taste any brownie.”

That only earned him a shrug.  “It’s good,” Shiro said, going for a second dip.  He ignored Hunk’s flat stare. “Really good. That’s the contrast?”

Hunk took his own taste (from a spoon), then nodded happily.  “Mhmm. Just makes the taste more intense. Maybe a little more chocolately than I would do regularly, but it’s going to mix with the cream cheese, so it’s okay.  We’ll put that aside for now.”

With Hunk’s instructions and watchful eye, Shiro got the first batter in a bowl, and then started on creaming the cheese (which, apparently, meant whipping and not adding cream).  As time went on, Shiro found himself focusing more and more on the activity, and less on his racing thoughts and fears. More than once, he nearly messed up in a way that would have ruined his efforts if he was alone (there was probably still an eggshell fragment or two in the cream cheese batter).  But Hunk had a solution for everything, or at least reassurances, and Shiro was able to keep focused.

Once both batters were done, Hunk poured the chocolate into the pan, and then had Shiro slowly drizzle in the cream cheese mix.  It created a ribbon of white through the brownies, and a very gentle, slow, short mix with a fork created something that really did look like marble.

“Contrast,” Shiro murmured to himself, head tilted.  “Like you said, black and white.”

“Yup.  Cool, right?”  Hunk looked over the would-be brownies with an air of satisfaction, then set them in the oven.  “Should taste pretty good, too.”

Shiro took a seat, chin resting on his hand as he watched. 

After a long pause, Hunk frowned and looked over.  “You okay? Did that help?”

Starting, Shiro nodded.  “Yes, actually. It was distracting.  And you kept me from breaking anything, which was nice.”  His eyes fell back onto the closed oven door, as if he could see through it.  “I was just thinking about what you said. About contrast making things more intense.”

Humming, Hunk sat down at the table across from him.  “What about it?”

Shiro looked down at the table, at where both hands rested against the pale metal.  Then he let out a long sigh. “I lie a lot.”

Expression falling, Hunk winced.  “I can’t really say. We don’t know when you’re lying.  But judging by the past day? Yeah. You kinda do.”

“I never really thought of it that way,” Shiro said.  He still didn’t look up, instead watching the dull shine off of his metal fingers.  “It didn’t seem like a lie. Just… polite. Kind. Or something that didn’t need to be discussed.  It wasn’t until I had contrast with the truth that I realized how often I do it.” He looked up, shoulders slumped.  “You and Lance both said you don’t know me that well.”

Hunk took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.  “Depends on your definition. We don’t know the little things.  I don’t know your favorite color, or what kind of music you like, or what your childhood pet was.  But I do know you’re a great guy with a big heart who takes on way too much responsibility for one person.  I know I trust you with my life and my wellbeing. Do you think that’s knowing someone?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro admitted.  “Are those other things important?  I mean- it’d be nice to know them, but… who cares?  What does it matter?”

Hunk considered him, a shine to his eyes.  “We care. All of us do.” He hesitated, then ducked his head.  “Can I run something by you that makes sense to me, but might be really, really off, and you can tell me to shut up if you want?”

With an opening like that, how could Shiro say no?  “Go ahead.”

“I don’t think those things are unimportant.  It’s just that you got trained out of them.” Hunk glanced up through his bangs and managed a thin smile.  “It’s not like the Garrison much cares, right? No matter what you like to wear, you have to wear the uniform.  No matter what you want to eat, you get what’s in the commissary. Then you were… well, you were with the Galra, and I’m guessing they cared enough less.”

Shiro clamped his jaw tight against an immediate answer.  “That’s a good assumption.”

Hunk nodded.  “So it seems to me like there was a really long stretch of time where no one cared, and expression your opinion hurt you.  So maybe part of the reason you hold back is that it kept you safe, and you have to get used to expressing it again.”

Closing his eyes, Shiro swallowed against his churning stomach.  It did make sense, resonated like a bell in his chest. It saw too clearly into him, and he didn’t like it.

Which might be exactly Hunk’s point.

Dammit.  Why did he feel threatened?  What was so scary about someone understanding him?

“Knowing why you’re uncomfortable doesn’t mean you have to change everything, you know,” Hunk said.  He reached out and gently rested a hand on Shiro’s arm. “I’m not sitting here and telling you to fix yourself.  Being reserved is just part of you as a person, too. Maybe not to the degree it is now, but still. I’m not demanding you change this tonight or else you’re messed up.  It’s just to help you know why you feel the way you do, so you can make more informed decisions.”

Tension that Shiro hadn’t noticed fell away all at once.  He stared at Hunk in awe. “Oh.” How had Hunk known he’d needed to hear that?  Shiro himself had no idea.

Then again, Hunk had been dealing with this kind of anxiety his whole life, like he’d said.

It was odd to think of his problems as shared.  As normal. It felt like he was mentally beat up by the Galra then left to nurse these wounds.  But Hunk understood, even without living the same circumstances. Maybe he didn’t have identical symptoms, but this wasn’t unique to Shiro.

He wasn’t alone.

Someone could help.

Ducking his head, Shiro swallowed hard, and then again when he still couldn’t breath around the lump in his throat.  “That does help. I should remember that you understand more often. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Hunk said, smiling gently.  “It’s really okay. You’re doing well. And when you have problems like this, usually it’s because your brain is doing something that kept you safe before, but now doesn’t work so well anymore.  Like using muscle memories of flying a plane in a car instead.”

Oh.

Put like that, it made sense.  It was just a habit, training applied too broadly.  Not a sign of being broken.

“This is normal,” Shiro said, and for the first time it really was the truth.

Hunk’s warm and tightened around Shiro’s arm.  “Yeah, it is.”

Shiro continued to swallow, his throat tight but his shoulders heavier than they’d been in a long time.

Contrast had helped him to see the problem.  Had highlighted an issue he wasn’t even aware of.

But it was a similarity that offered empathy and guidance.

Maybe baking was pretty helpful after all.


	4. Chapter 4

"Shiro?  May I speak with you?"  
  
Shiro paused, automatically tightening his grip on his towel and toiletries.  At this hour, he'd assumed everyone else would already be asleep. He'd gotten distracted with coalition reports until past when he should have been in bed, and he hadn't been willing to crash without washing off the sweat from today's training.  Thankfully, propriety had demanded he get dressed into his pajamas, rather than parade back to his room in a towel like the others occasionally did.  
  
Turning, Shiro straightened and faced Allura.  "Of course, Princess. What do you need?"  
  
Allura looked exhausted.  There were deep bags under her eyes, and her hair was pulled back into a huge, wild ponytail.   She was wearing her battle suit rather than her formal dress, which suggested she'd been working on a project.  
  
Immediately, Shiro's heart went out to her.  Allura usually looked immaculate, even in dire situations.  Likely, it was for the same reason Shiro took care of his appearance.  As a princess, Allura had to know the importance of making a good impression, and how much it could affect how other people reacted to them.  That was a difficult habit to break, even in private.  
  
"Is everything alright?" Shiro finally asked, taking a cautious step closer.  
  
Sighing, Allura closed her eyes.  "Yes. Well, I hope so, at least."  She straightened and set her shoulders.  "I've been working more on some of the texts on Alchemy.  What we tried yesterday were the most directly related to magic and curses, but I found some more... obscure possibilities.  I'd say we should both get some sleep and try them in the morning, but, well, we're on a time crunch."  
  
Shiro winced and looked away.  First thing tomorrow morning, they'd be arriving back on Andraxus to negotiate taking the spell off him.  None of them liked the idea, but it was better than keeping Shiro so useless. His fighting was affected, his ability to work with the coalition was damaged, and diplomacy was right out.  It was this or destroy all of Shiro's use to the team.  
  
Unless Allura had figured it out after all.  
  
"Absolutely,"  Shiro said, meeting her gaze again.  "We can head back to your workshop now, if you'd like."  Then he paused and glanced back behind him, toward the rest of the castle.  "Ah, this is a bit presumptuous, but... would you also like to get something to drink or eat first?  You look like you could use the break. Did you have dinner?"  
  
Allura opened her mouth, then closed it with a huff.  "I'm fine," she said, perfectly even.  
  
Absurdly, after talking with everyone, it made Shiro feel a little better to find someone else lying to hide weakness.    
  
"I understand," Shiro said, voice gentling.  "I really do. But you're doing all this work for my benefit.  I'd feel better if you were taking care of yourself in the process."  
  
For a moment, Allura looked like she'd protest.  Then she sighed and nodded. "A quick detour for water packets.  We can discuss the process on the way."  
  
Shiro nodded and turned on his heel, leading the way toward the kitchen.  He slowed his pace just a touch, so it was easier for her to catch up and keep even with his longer stride.  "I appreciate you putting so much work into this. I'm sorry for getting into this mess in the first place."  
  
Waving him off, Allura stepped into the kitchen.  "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm going to keep trying to break this awful curse.  It's absolutely infuriating that they've managed to... to extort us this way!" She pulled out two water packets, then stabbed in her straw with more force than necessary.  "No wonder it was so easy for us to leave. They had to know we'd need to come back, or else make you suffer this way for longer. It's vile!"  
  
Shiro took the other offered packet with a smile.  There was plenty he respected about Allura, but her passion and sense of justice were among the greatest.  He'd been lucky that he'd ended up under commanding officers who cared about their subordinates, and Commander Holt could be very vocal about a cause he cared for.  But in his experience, those personalities got rarer the higher the rank. They were very lucky to have gotten someone like Allura to fight with.  
  
"As far as extortion goes, at least we know this is something we can give," Shiro said.  He leaned back against the counter, content to stay here until Allura had hydrated. "They're not asking for secrets about the coalition, or demanding to take a lion, or something equally dangerous.  I can't say I'm happy about what they'll decide to ask me, but at least this way it can be over in an afternoon."  
  
Allura bit down hard on the straw, her eyes flashing.  "We should not be in that position. Even more so, _you_ should not be put in that position!  We know how your memories can affect you.  This is signing you up for torture." Her shoulders slumped as she stared down at her feet.    
  
A humorless chuckle bubbled out of Shiro before he could stop it.  "No, I know torture. This isn't that bad."  
  
Going ashen, Allura stared at him.  
  
Shit.  
  
"Ah..."  Shiro winced and sipped at his drink.  It gave him time to think of a way to word what he wanted to say, rather than just letting the words flow out.  Damn this curse. "I'm sorry. I do appreciate that you're trying to keep me from harm. That wasn't an appropriate response."  
  
Allura took a deep breath.  "No, it was. It's true, after all.  That's part of the problem. You have already suffered, and it's abhorrent to me that you have to go through more pain for no reason whatsoever.  We asked these peoples to be allies with us to battle the Galra, and instead they chose to force answers out of you. And now they're taking advantage of their own nasty behavior..."  She let out a throaty noise of rage.  
  
Swallowing against his own frustration, Shiro nodded.  "I hate it too," he said, just barely managing to keep his voice even.  "There's not much I want to do less than talk about Haggar and what it was like to be around her.  I still don't remember much, but what I do is unpleasant. But if I have to go through it, I'd rather just... do it.  Get through it as fast as possible, then get off that planet and not have to worry about it anymore."  
  
"Is that how you got through your captivity?"  Allura blinked, then slapped her free hand over her mouth.  "Oh, Shiro! Don't answer that. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud.  I've just been working all day and I did miss dinner while I was concentrating, but that's absolutely no excuse.  This is exactly what I was angry about them doing!"  
  
Shiro smiled back, eyes dark and smile bitter.  "It's fine. I understand. I know you're all curious."  He dropped the rest of his water packet in the disposal bin.  "For the record? It's not. I fought against them constantly.  So I've learned how much more painful that can be."  
  
Allura stared back at him, her hand still over her mouth, and her eyes wet.  
  
The tension drained out of Shiro, leaving a hollow ache in his chest.  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that either."  
  
"I asked," Allura said, very small.  "I'll fix this. Tonight, rather than dealing with any of them."  
  
Shiro nodded slowly.  "We'll try." He followed her out, regret still heavy in his chest.  That had been an impulsive, deeply bitter thing to say, and he shouldn't have subjected Allura to that.  
  
None of them should be subjected to it.  
  
But, like he'd said, it was natural for them to be curious.  
  
A heavy pit of dread formed in Shiro's stomach.    
  
If Allura didn't manage to break the spell today, then it wasn't just going to the Andraxians who got the answers.  It would be everyone in the room. He doubted the questions would get any worthwhile information about Haggar out of him, but it would almost certainly pull up details he didn't want any of the team to know about.  
  
"Take a seat," Allura said, gesturing stiffly toward the chair.  Her workroom was an uncharacteristic mess, covered in older books and papers, many of which looked like they'd been simply shoved aside when they hadn't helped.  "Let's get this fixed."  
  
Shiro sat down stiffly, hands folded awkwardly in his lap.  He looked around, discomforted by the arcane symbols and the lingering scent of ozone.  After all this time, Shiro couldn't begin to understand magic. Allura's magic was a relatively rare sight, and it looked different from Haggar's in practice.  But the basic tools of the trade seemed to be the same for both of them.  
  
Once he was settled, Allura stepped closer.  She held her hands up, which began to glow a faint pink.  The ozone scent of the room got stronger. "Alright, just stay still and relaxed, if you can. This shouldn't hurt at all, but let me know if you feel anything different."  
  
Well, Shiro's heart rate had just spiked, but he doubted that was what she meant.  He nodded, jaw locked against an honest answer, and waited.  
  
Allura brought one hand to the side of Shiro's head, just shy of touching, while the other hovered just over his chest.  Her lips worked, forming silent worlds as she concentrated. Motes of light began to float off of her hands, like an unfelt breeze had shaken pink fireflies loose from her fingers.  
  
At first, there was no change.  But then Shiro felt heat over his cheek, like someone was pointing a hairdryer at his face.  "There. Just by my head. It's warm."  
  
Allura nodded, her eyes falling shut.  "Okay, good. I think I can feel their magic."  She bit down hard on her bottom lip, the furrow between her brows deepening.  "Try saying a lie."  
  
"My name is Pi- Takashi." Shiro paused, surprised his proper name had come out, rather than 'Shiro'.    
  
Grunting, Allura pushed her hand in closer, until the fingers brushed against the front of Shiro's pajamas.  Like that, she might well be able to feel just how tense Shiro was. If she noticed, she decided not to comment on it.  "Again."  
  
"My name is La-"  This time, Shiro's throat closed up.  He coughed automatically, which only made the sensation worse.  When he tried to keep talking, the truth automatically bubbling up, all that came out was a painful gargle, and no he got no air at all.  Instead he tapped at her arm, eyes wide with panic.  
  
Allura gasped, then pulled back.  "Shiro? What's wrong?"  
  
As soon as the heat from the magic faded, his throat released. Shiro let out a wet, ragged cough, curling forward.  He'd only been choked for a few seconds, not nearly long enough to actually hurt him, but it had startled him. Finally, he wiped over his mouth and looked up.  "It stopped me from lying by totally closing up my throat, but it still wanted me to answer honestly."  
  
Allura groaned and slumped back against her desk.  "Quiznak. That's absolutely not what was supposed to happen."  
  
"That was the first time you've affected the curse at all," Shiro said, rubbing idly over his throat.  "That's at least progress, though I'd rather be able to breathe."  
  
Snorting, Allura eyed him.  "Yes, I can imagine. I'm so sorry, Shiro.  Are you alright to try something else?"  
  
"I think you should try that again."  Shiro dropped his hand and set his shoulders.  "It was the first attempt to do anything at all."  
  
Allura shook her head as he pushed off the desk.  "Absolutely not." When Shiro tried to protest, she held up her hand.  "That was an extremely gentle amount of magic. The smallest amount I can muster and control, barely increased at all.  If I were to try again with any more magic, it might not wear off so quickly."  
  
Clenching his teeth, Shiro gripped hard at the arm rests.  "I think it's worth it."  
  
"I do not."  Allura stood up straight, downright looming over him in the chair.  "The point of this is to keep you from unnecessary harm, not to cause it.  There are other methods we can try first, and hopefully none of them will be likely to kill you."  
  
"You'll have to get used to that eventually."  
  
As soon as the words came out, Shiro wanted to physically shove them back into his mouth.  Dammit. _Dammit!_  Damn the stupid truth spell, and damn Shiro's own dark sense of humor.  
  
Allura stared at him, her mouth falling open.  Frankly, she looked like Shiro had slapped her full across the face, including the color starting to rise on her cheeks.  
  
Clearing his throat, Shiro met her eyes.  "I'm sorry, that was a bad joke. I didn't mean...”  
  
"Then how did you mean it?" Allura asked flatly.  "I would love to hear it."  
  
Shiro opened his mouth.  
  
Nothing came out.  
  
He closed it.  
  
Allura sank to her knees in front of Shiro, her hands folded in her lap.  "Shiro, will you please tell me what you meant? I would appreciate knowing why you're sure you're going to die, while I'll live."  
  
Shiro closed his eyes hard, frustration threatening to choke him like the attempt to break the spell had.  Why had he said that? He'd gone over a year without every so much as mentioning this, and he'd fully planned on never doing so until circumstances forced him to.  It should have been within his control, at his own pace. Not like this.  
  
"I don't want to," Shiro admitted.  Even to his own ears, the words sounded sullen.  Childish.  
  
There was silence. Then Allura gently put a hand on Shiro's knee.  "You don't have to. It just worries me that you think so. If you were thinking of doing something rash, I would hope you would speak to one of us."  
  
Head snapping up, Shiro stared at Allura in astonishment.  His face was flush with anger, and he desperately wanted to throw something.  "You think I'm going to kill myself? After everything? _Really?"_  
  
Allura pulled her hand back, eyes wide.  "I don't know! Why else would only you die?"  She winced then held up her hand. "You don't have to answer that."  
  
Maybe it was a reasonable conclusion, but there were too many emotions churning through Shiro to stay calm.  Most of his life had been running against an unseeable tickling clock. The idea of shortening that time even further made Shiro's stomach feel like ice.  
  
"I wouldn't do that," he said, each word clipped and sharp.  Spite drove him forward, lashing out with words designed to cut.  "If I was going to do it, I'd have done it when I was captured."  
  
Allura flinched, but didn't move away.  Her eyes were still shining as she watched.  "It wasn't meant to offend you. I'm sorry. It's not a slight against you at all.  I'm merely aware that sometimes, those who have seen tragedies or combat can need help during their recovery.  If you require that kind of aid, we'll do whatever we need to so you can have it."  
  
Apparently Alteans could get PTSD much like humans could.  It wasn't an unreasonable assumption, not in the least.  
  
Shiro forced himself to breathe, timing it out.  In for six seconds, hold for four, out eight. Repeat.  Repeat.  
  
Finally, he felt in control enough to meet Allura's eyes again.  "You were right to check in. I'm sorry for snapping at you." Looking her over, Shiro winced.  "Please, you don't have to be on the floor like this."  
  
"It's no problem at all.  A little dust certainly won't hurt me."  Allura stayed exactly where she was. "I promise you, I won't pry into this if you don't want to share.  But I hope you know that if you need any kind of help, you need only ask. Everyone on this ship wants so desperately to help you, Shiro.  If you need it, we will provide whatever you require."  
  
"I kn-"  Shiro winced as the words cut off in his mouth.  
  
Apparently he didn't know that.  
  
Looking Allura over, Shiro considered her words carefully.  If this awful week was teaching him anything, it was how little he shared of himself with the team.  For the small details, it wasn't intentional, not really. Lance and Hunk had proven conclusively that it was safe for him to share those little parts of himself.  
  
What about the bigger ones?  
  
If Shiro had been forced at gunpoint to pick someone to tell, Allura would have been near the bottom of the list.  He'd had far, far too many authority figures tell him that his condition was a liability. That it was a reason to refuse to allow him the missions he wanted, and to deny him positions he knew he was qualified for.  Maybe Black had chosen him, but Allura had some kind of mystical connection to the lions. If anyone could strip him of his title, it was her.  
  
But looking at her now, on her knees, eyes red-rimmed but determined, jaw set...  
  
Shiro's heart clenched hard.  
  
"There's nothing you can do," he said, choosing each word carefully.  "This is something I've known about for a very long time. Longer than I've known any of you, including Keith.  This is something I've been resigned to for years. Before I say anything more, I want you to promise you won't tell anyone else."  
  
Allura opened her mouth, but then paused.  Her shoulders sank as she thought the request over.  
  
Honestly, Shiro was glad to see it.  It was easy to say someone agreed to keep a secret, then to go back on that later when they actually heard it.  
  
Finally, Allura raised her chin.  "As long as this secret isn't directly harming you, then yes, I agree."  
  
Shiro let out a dark bark of laughter.  "Depends on your definition of harm." Technically, the truth fell under that, but not in the way Allura was probably thinking.  So Shiro closed his eyes, steeling himself, then continued. "I'm sick. Humans can be born with certain illnesses, and many of them can't be cured, only treated.  I found out when I was a teenager." He opened his eyes to meet Allura's gaze directly, forcing himself to watch her reaction. "It's degenerative. My muscles will eventually start to give out.  Back on Earth, I had bracers that helped, but since Kerberos, I've just been doing exercises that help. But they won't last forever, and eventually I won't be able to keep doing this. Someday, my body won’t be able to support itself."  
  
Silence rang in the workshop.  
  
Emotions flashed over Allura's face - confusion, horror, empathy.  "You- I never knew. I never even thought... is it happening now?"  
  
Shiro swallowed against the lump in his throat.  "I've had minor problems since before I left for Kerberos. Nothing that affects any mission, I promise.  My exercises do a lot to help. If I ever thought it would compromise the team, I'd step down. I promise you that.  I'd never let anyone get hurt because of me."  
  
Slowly, Allura nodded.  "I don't doubt that. Not at all.  I know you'd never put them in danger."  
  
Tension that Shiro hadn't even been aware of suddenly loosened.  His shoulders slumped, and Shiro blinked back heat from behind his eyes.  "Good. I'm glad you know that."  
  
"I'm far more worried about the fact that you've been going through this and I didn't know."  Allura frowned. "Do the other humans know? Does Coran?"  
  
Was she the last to be told?  
  
Despite the very serious conversation, a smile tugged at Shiro's lips.  

"Keith knows.  I told him-" he cut himself off by physically biting down on his tongue.  "Years ago. When I was chosen for the Kerberos mission. It was my one chance to do something amazing, but there was push back against bringing me from the higher ups.  He wanted to know why. No one else knows, at least so far as I'm aware. I suppose Pidge might. Her brother and father knew."  
  
Allura just seemed to slump more.  "Does it hurt?"  
  
"Sometimes."  Shiro winced hard.  "Twinges, mostly. Nothing debilitating."  
  
"I'm so sorry."  Allura reached up to him again, then hesitated.  "May I touch you? I'd like to hug you, but I know you're not very demonstrative."  
  
Shiro paused, his brows up.  "I don't mind hugs. You've seen me hug the others."  
  
"Keith, usually.  You've known him the longest, and the both of you are close."  Allura stood up, then slowly pulled Shiro into a tight, fierce hug.  "I'm sorry," she repeated, voice raspy.  
  
"It's not your fault."  Shiro held her back, more gently than she did for him, and patted her on the back.  "There's nothing you can do about it."  
  
Allura let out a watery sniff.  "And that's horrible! Are you sure I can't?  Maybe there's some alchemy I can do. I could heal the Balmera after all.  Why not you?"  
  
Heart jolting, Shiro froze.  
  
The thought had never really occurred to him.  Not deeply. He'd thought once, more wistful than certain, that maybe the pod could do something about his disease.  But he'd asked Coran early on, among a slew of other questions. The pod healed beings back to their biological standard.  That healed wounds, but did very little for illnesses other than minimizing symptoms. For conditions like Shiro's, it was essentially useless.  
  
Shiro hadn't been disappointed, not fully.  He hadn't allowed himself to hope.  
  
He didn't want to now, either.  
  
"You can try," he offered.  He forced himself to look at the question academically rather than emotionally.  He wouldn't allow himself to get attached to the idea. After all, magic hadn't broken the curse.  "I think it would be a good idea. I want to try every avenue. But I should continue to prepare for whe- if it doesn't work."  
  
The arms around him tightened as Allura rested her chin on Shiro's shoulder.  The pressure wasn't quite enough to be painful, though it was close. There was desperation in the curl of Allura's fingers.  "We can speak to our allies as well. Alteans may not have a way of fixing this, but that doesn't mean others won't. We have some of the best resources in the universe."  
  
Shiro's mouth went dry.  That wasn't something he could have ever asked for himself.  The universe as a whole needed the help more than Shiro alone did.  He didn't want to take away time that could be used for fighting the Galra.  Especially not when every other attempt had been a dead end.

But if it was offered...  
  
His arms came up and held Allura back just as firmly.  "Thank you."  
  
Allura nodded sharply.  "Anything." She finally pulled back, wiping briskly under her eyes.  "Do you know how long you have until you start being affected?"  
  
The more clinical tone actually helped.  Shiro was able to wrangle his emotions back under control.  "Not for sure. There was only an estimate when I left for Kerberos.  They were saying a few more years before I start showing more noticeable symptoms."  
  
Allura's eyes narrowed as she translated 'years' into the phebs she was more used to.  "So maybe another year?"  
  
"There's really no saying for sure.  It could be more. It could be less."  
  
That drew another ragged breath from Allura, but she nodded.  "Once we're done dealing with this current problem, I'll begin looking into that.  Altean healing alchemy is much more common than truth curses, so there will be more to draw from.  If not, I'll make subtle requests from some of our allies, without naming any names."  
  
Absurdly, that was what made Shiro's throat tighten up.  He couldn't put his faith in this solution, not yet. The disappointment would hurt too much.  But Allura cared enough about his privacy to be so careful with the information.

"Thank you," he said, voice going quiet.  "I appreciate that."  
  
"It's no problem at all.  You deserve... far more than this, at the very least."  Allura took several more steady breaths, clearly composing herself.  "Alright, let's begin the next attempt. But, Shiro, may I make one suggestion?"  
  
Shiro nodded, more than a little wary.  
  
"You should tell the others.  At your own time, under your own power."  Allura met his eyes. "It's your choice, and I don't mean to pressure you to share more than you're comfortable with.  However, if your time with us is limited, I'm glad to know ahead of time to cherish it as much as possible."  
  
The chill in Shiro's veins kept him from speaking.  He clenched his fists tightly in his lap and nodded, rather than try.  
  
Allura didn't push.  She just patted him on the shoulder once, then moved to the book again.  Since she'd been so ready to try the other spell, it was likely she was just giving Shiro a chance to compose himself.  Or maybe she needed a moment to get herself under control.  
  
Normally, Shiro was comfortable in silences.  His closest friend was Keith, after all.  
  
Tonight, there was too much churning under the surface.    
  
"Are there going to be consequences to this?"  
  
Allura paused and turned around, her brows up.  "To the magic? I would certainly hope not."  
  
Wincing, Shiro shook his head.  "No, no. I mean to me. My condition.  You said you would look into solutions, but in the meantime."  
  
"Well..."  Allura said, drawing the world out.  "There can be, if you want there to be.  I'm honored you trusted me with it, if that's what you mean."  
  
Shiro shook his head hard clutching at his arm rests again.  He fought the urge to squirm like a child in the principal's office.  "Want isn't the right word. But if you have any reservations, now would be a good time to discuss them."  
  
There was another long pause.  Allura blinked slowly, like the words weren't translating properly.  "You said you've had this condition for years, correct? The whole time you've been in space.  And that you have ways of controlling any issues."  
  
Shiro nodded, heart in his throat.  
  
"You've been nothing but a model paladin," Allura said, still utterly baffled.  "Nothing has changed, other than my understanding of the situation. What reservations would I have?"  
  
Something in Shiro snapped.  
  
He curled in on himself, head bowed.  All he could do was nod, because if he opened his mouth, he had no idea what would come out.  
  
There was a long pause before Allura spoke again.  "You do a wonderful job, Shiro. You've lead us through so many hard times, and we're glad to have you around.  And even if we can't help you with your condition, we're thrilled to have you here with us for as long as you're around.  Thank you for all the hard work you put in for us, and I hope we can help you half as much as you have us."  
  
All Shiro could do was stay still, letting the words wash over him, and clench his eyes against the well of emotion.  
  
Allura knew.  The one person who could take away this position knew, and she supported him.  
  
Not even Adam had done that.  Only the Holts and Keith had supported Shiro.  
  
He couldn't even manage to thank her, not with his throat so tight.  
  
There was the sound of shuffled papers and books, probably Allura organizing the space after her busy research.  He shouldn't be delaying this. They both desperately needed the sleep, even if they didn't have to meet the Andraxians bright and early.  
  
But just for right now, Shiro took a moment to be so thankful for what he had.  It was more than he'd ever dared hope. His own command, to explore the galaxy farther than any other team, to do something huge and important.  To have people who supported him unconditionally.  
  
It was worth the loss of his arm and the year of hell.  Even if that was one year less time to do everything he wanted, the results more than made up for it.  
  
Finally, Shiro's chest loosened.  He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, getting it back in order.  "Are you ready to continue?"  
  
"Yes."  Allura turned back around.  "If you need more time, I can wait."  
  
Shiro shook his head.  "No, I'm ready. Let's continue."  
  
Nodding, Allura stepped forward as her hands began to glow.  
  
They tried several more configurations.  Each time, Allura had him try to lie, and every time it failed.    
  
Finally, Allura dropped her hands.  "I'm sorry, Shiro. That was the last of them."  
  
"It's fine."  Shiro smiled when she eyed him flatly.  "It is. Really. I've gotten through so much worse.  We'll get through this, then we'll move onto the next challenge."  
  
Letting out a huff, Allura set her shoulders.  "It's still infuriating. This is an insult."  
  
Shiro sighed.  "I can't pretend I don't hate it.  But it's just one afternoon. I'll make do."  Then he glanced up at her. "But could you do me a favor?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
Shiro leaned back in his chair.  "When they interrogate me, I don't want any of you in the room with me."  As soon as Allura opened her mouth, he held out a hand. "Obviously, you should be by the exits, and making sure they don't try to make off with me again.  But if I have to answer their questions, I don't want any of you to hear what I say when I can't control myself. I don't know how to balance the two, but that's what I want."  
  
At first, Allura looked like she'd continue to argue.  Then she sighed. "We’ll figure it out when we get there.  Your safety is the most important issue. If we can't guarantee that, then I'm afraid that has to take priority.  But I'll do my best."  
  
It wasn't the answer Shiro wanted, but it was good enough for now.  It was late, and they both needed sleep. "Alright." Shiro stood, legs shaky after sitting too long.  "Thank you again, Princess."  
  
"I wish I was more help."  Allura sighed, but set her jaw.  "We'll get you through as painlessly as possible.  I promise you that."  
  
"I appreciate it."  Shiro hesitated, then held out his arms again.  
  
Immediately, Allura slammed into his chest, holding him tightly.  She squeezed with more force than the human body was designed to take, but Shiro just patted her on the back.  
  
When she pulled back, Allura smiled up at him again.  "Are you proving me wrong about the hugging comment?"  
  
Shiro smiled sheepishly.  "A bit. You're right that I don't usually start them.  It's not my usual impulse. But you've more than earned any hugs you want."  
  
"I'll remember that."  Allura patted him on the arm, then gave him a gentle shove.  "Alright, we've both more than earned as much rest as we can get.  Off to bed."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  Shiro chuckled, the noise rough after all the emotions of the evening.  He allowed himself to be ushered to his room, and happily accepted an extra hug from Allura before saying goodnight.  
  
Tomorrow would be horrible.  Shiro knew that already.  
  
Despite that, he slept better than he had in weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

"This is a stupid idea," Pidge said plainly.  Behind her glasses, her eyes were red-rimmed and bright with rage.

Shiro nodded and took the little device from her hands.  "Noted." 

Scowling darkly, Keith tightened his grip on his Marmora blade.  "You don't have to do this. We'll figure something out."

"We tried that," Shiro reminded.  Beside him, Allura winced and looked away, which made his chest tighten.  "I'm sure if we had all the time in the universe, we'd find a way to fix the curse.  If not, the magic would eventually fade. But we don't have time for that. I can't be useless for that long.  So let's just get it over with. We’re ready for this, now."

The assurance didn't do much.  Keith ground his teeth and continued to stare, like he could change Shiro's mind through sheer force of will.

It wasn't going to work.

Shiro stared right back at him, not even bothering to stand up.  This was, as promised, not the same room that the Andraxians had wanted to interrogate him in originally.  Instead it was a relatively comfortable guest room, with a padded chair for Shiro to sit in. The room had been thoroughly vetted by a Coran, Pidge and Hunk team-up.  It did not contain any hidden weapons, doors, or other threats. The only monitoring device in the room was a camera on the wall, which pointed to the entrance, not at where Shiro sat.  

During the questioning, the team would be readily available right on the other side of the door.  There would only be two Andraxians present - the High Councillor for the interrogations, and a practiced spell caster to monitor and then break the truth curse once they were finished.  The device in Shiro's hand would alert the other paladins at the touch of a button if there was a problem. Every five minutes, it would buzz, and if Shiro didn't tap it off with his personal code, it would also summon them.  

All of this, just to make sure none of them were in the room.

Shiro had to go through this.  He had to tell the High Councilor what he remembered, as little as that was.  It was going to suck.

But it would suck so much more if they were all listening.

"I really don't like this," Hunk groaned, scrubbing over his face.  "There's so many holes in this plan. They could use the magic person to keep you from fighting back, then just ask you for your code."

Shiro's brows rose.  "I don't have to tell them anything.  We know I can keep secrets if I'm determined, I just can't lie."

"Unless they torture you!  You know, that thing they were totally planning before we stopped them the first time?"

Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.  "I don't want to do this. But we have to. The alternatives are all worse.  So can we just get this done, please?"

A hand settled on Shiro's shoulder.  He startled until he saw Coran standing next to him.  "I think Number One is set in his decision," he said, chin raised high and shoulder set.  "The best thing we can do is support him."

Relief flooded Shiro as tension released in his shoulders.  He hated this. He hated having to relive his time with Haggar, as much as he was able, and he hated that he was dead weight that couldn't even control his mouth right now.  The effort of reassuring his teammates was only adding to that.

Pidge scowled, her fingers tightening into fists.  Her determination was normally a huge boon on missions, responsible for getting them through more scraps and barriers than Shiro could count.  But apparently right now she was turning it all on Shiro's plan.

But before she could open her mouth, Lance grabbed her by the arm and squeezed.  "Coran's right. We'll just be ready the whole time. If they try anything, we'll know, and then we can make them pay for it."

"Or we could just get back in Voltron and tell them to break the spell or get blasted," Keith muttered.

Hunk frowned and looked over. "I'm pretty sure that's now how we're supposed to use Voltron."

"It's for  _ Shiro." _

"Well, Shiro doesn't want you to blow up a planet when I could just answer twenty minutes worth of questions," Shiro said flatly, sighing.  "Please. This is what I want. The sooner we do this, the sooner it's over and we can all leave and not worry about this anymore. So please.  If I do this, let me do it my way."

Allura's expression twisted, but she nodded.  "You're the one going through this, so the least we can do is make you both as safe and comfortable as possible."  She sighed at the combined looks of the rest of the paladins. "What else can we do?"

Hunk bit his bottom lip.  Then he turned to face Shiro, placing a hand on either shoulder.  "You know you can end it just 'cause you're done talking, right? They don't have to attack you, you can just decide it's not worth it and we'll get you out in half a second."

"Or I can just walk out," Shiro replied, even as a small smile pulled up the corner of his lips.  "But if I can't, I know you'll be there."

Nodding, Hunk gave him a thin, trembling smile.  "Good. I'm going to hug you now."

Shiro's brows rose.  "Oh. Okay."

That was permission enough, because Hunk lunged forward and grabbed Shiro in a tight hug.  The pressure was tight at first, squishing Shiro against Hunk's chest, but it softened until he was just holding him.  Shiro smiled against Hunk's shoulder, thin but thankful.

Before Hunk even let go, Lance tugged Shiro sideways into a hug as well, practically clinging to the back of his shirt.  Within seconds, the rest of the group piled in, gripping Shiro like he was about to be taken from them again.

No wonder they were so nervous.  Last time Shiro had been here, he'd been snatched away.  It hadn't taken them long to get him back, but it had to have been terrifying.

He patted Keith on the back when he pulled away last, and gave the team a brighter smile.  "I'll be fine," he said, clear and even. He believed it, otherwise it wouldn't have been able to come out of his mouth.  "I know I'll be safe. I'm sorry for this, but it's what I need."

Pidge looked over his face, eyes bright.  Then her expression settled. "Okay. We'll make sure of that."

Shiro relaxed and bit back a sigh of relief.  Pidge looked less like she had when she was about to storm off to find her family in those first few days.  She had a tendency to do what she thought was the best course of action, and damn what anyone else thought. This was better.

"Thank you.  You can go ahead and send the High Councillor in."

Allura's lips pressed thin, but she nodded.  "Alright. We'll see you in twenty minutes. Or sooner."

Smiling again, thinner this time, Shiro settled back in the chair.  "It won't be long at all."

There was a visible reluctance for everyone to move away.  It was Coran who finally started it, and the rest of the group slowly trickled out after him.

Keith waited the longest, until the rest of the group was gone.  Then he pulled his Marmora blade out of its holster and held it out.  "Here."

"What?"  Shiro looked down at the knife, then up at Keith.  "I can't use this like you. And I can't- this is your mother's."

"I'm not giving it to you for keeps," Keith said, shoulders set and feet planted.  Steady, difficult to move - a defensive stance. "Just to get out. I know you have your arm, but just in case.  They don't know you have it."

Shiro looked at the camera, which was still pointed to the entrance, then back to Keith.  

The knife that Keith had been willing to almost die for.

And he was handing it out now for Shiro to take, without any hesitation.

Heart clenching, Shiro nodded.  He took the knife and carefully tucked it in his belt behind his back, where no one would be able to see it.  "Thank you. I know what this means."

"I know.  What's why I trust you with it.  I want it back in twenty minutes, got it?"

"Less."  Shiro reached out his hand, which Keith took and squeezed, an echo of their usual hug.  With Shiro sitting down, it would be awkward, but this worked too.

With a last nod, Keith hurried after the rest.  As he walked out the door, his head turned to the side, and a dark glare came over his features.  But he stepped out of the way, allowing in the High Councillor and the spell caster.

Both Andrax were close to Pidge's height, but much stockier.  Shiro struggled not to be reminded of Tolkien style dwarves. They were dressed in robes, though the spell caster's were more plain and functional, while the High Councillor wore what looked like thick, heavily embroidered silks.  Both had purple complexions and hair, so desaturated it looked gray, but the Councillor's was far darker.

"Thank you for choosing to speak with us again, Black Paladin," said Councillor Iort, her hands folded in front of her.  "This is a matter of great importance to us all, and it's important to work together."

"Choice isn't the word I would use," Shiro said.  Normally he would try to at least be more polite, even with this curse but... well, screw it.  If they wanted him to talk, then Shiro was going to talk. It was their own fault if they didn't like the tone.

The spell caster moved to stand to Shiro's left, carefully out of arm's reach.  Both eyes glowed pale blue at the irises, and then she nodded to Iort. "The spell is still in effect.  There's no need for reapplication."

Shiro sighed and leaned back.  He could feel the handle of Keith's knife pressing into his spine, but it wasn't uncomfortable enough to show.  "I could have told you that."

"If it wasn't working, you could have lied about it."

Rolling his eyes, Shiro stared Iort down, waiting.

The Councillor tilted her head, making her long, thick hair shift to the side.  "We'll begin, then. How much magic have you seen Haggar perform?"

"I don't know."

Iort's lips pressed thin.  "Because you don't remember?"

Shiro's brows rose.  "And because I don't know how to quantify Haggar's magic."  He stretched out his legs in front of him and rested his hands on his stomach.

His smug little show didn't even make Iort blink, however.  "What kind of magic have you seen that you remember?"

Hm, Shiro was going to have to be less brazen about his loopholes, if he didn't want them to compensate for them.  "I saw the results of her magic more than the actual casting. I know I must have been in the room when she attached my arm, but I was drugged for it and I don't remember any specifics.  She had other staff do the dirty work of limb removal, so there was no magic involved with that."

_ Ulaz. _  Shiro could hazily picture him, mask on, mohawk pushed back.  His eyes intense and cold, showing nothing as he held the injector.  The image of him going hazy, and then black.

No magic there.  Just medical science.

"What magic results did you see?" Iort continued, her eyes just as blank and professional as Ulaz' had been.

Shivering, Shiro closed his eyes against the image.  But that gave him no defense against the faint memories threatening to boil to the surface, summoned by the conversation.  Shiro tried to push back on them. He didn't want to give them more information. He could have flashbacks after.

His mind had never cared about convenient timing for flashbacks before.  There wasn't much chance it would start now.

"Creatures," Shiro said, voice quiet.  "We call them robeasts, now, but these were smaller.  They were tested in the arena."

_ With a screech, the beast charged forward, heavy head lowered.  The eyes were wild, lost in pain and fear. Metal gleamed all over the rough, leathery skin, like it had been grafted on. _

_ Shiro scrambled out of the way, bracing on the new, metal arm.  His skin and muscles throbbed at where it connected to him. It hadn't been enough time for him to heal from the procedure or adjust to the weight.  The witch never cared about things like that. Only victory. _

_ Victory or death. _

_ The creature charged back with a screech.  Each footstep from the six legs was heavy enough to make the floor tremble.  It barreled past, moving too fast to be able to turn easily.  _

_ But the long tail was able to whip to the side, catching Shiro on the side and sending him tumbling.  He hit the dirt hard, jarring his already strained right shoulder. A cry ripped out of him despite his best effort. _

_ When he looked up, the creature had turned to look at him, but didn't lower its head again.  Instead, it opened its mouth unnaturally wide. The eyes swiveling wildly in their sockets, like it didn't know what was happening. _

_ Crackling energy formed in the beast's mouth.  A gargled, pained cry bubbled up, then was cut off as a burst of magic shot toward Shiro. _

_ He was ready, though, and he rolled out of the way and onto his feet.  Shiro tensed, waiting for the next blast. _

_ It didn't come.  _

_ The creature let out another pained cry, this one wet.  The huge tongue lolled out, half the size of Shiro and covered in welts.  Dark liquid trickled out and dripped onto the dirt floor. _

_ All Shiro could do was stand there and stare as the beast's breathing became wet and labored.  It heaved, then fell onto the side and gave another cry. _

_ Soon after, it went still. _

_ Whatever the witch had done to this poor thing, she hadn't changed the mouth and throat to withstand the energy.  It had destroyed itself trying to attack. _

_ Shiro stood in the center of the arena, arms slumped to his side.  He stared at the corpse, sympathy aching for the beast. It had been the subject of cruel experimentation, and never had a choice the whole way. _

_ At least its suffering was over. _

_ "Subject I78-E34Y was a failure.  The test is not adequate. Prepare the next trial." _

_ Shiro's suffering wasn't. _

"Black Paladin!"

Shiro started, his heart fluttering in his throat.  Cool sweat had broken out over his skin, sending a shiver through him.  He looked around, tense and prepared for the second fight, only to find himself back in the comfortable guest room.  Iort was closer now, wearing a deep frown. 

"Sorry," Shiro said, taking a deep breath.  "I just... I was remembering something."

Iort's hands clenched at her side.  "You promised us twenty minutes, Black Paladin.  If you do not allow us our full time, then we will not consider the agreement fulfilled."

Seriously?  Shiro scrubbed a hand over his face.  "I can't help it. The flashbacks happen when they happen.  I wasn't ignoring you, I just couldn't hear you."

That made Iort pause and frown.  She stepped back and glanced at the spell caster, who nodded.  "Please do your best to stay present, then."

"I don't think your permission will help."

Iort scowled again, finally looking flustered.  "What did you remember?"

Reeling back, Shiro looked away.  "A fight with one of Haggar's creature.  It was a failure."

"How so?"

"Because it killed itself."  Shiro's eyes snapped to her, his whole body going tense.  The hair on his arms stood up, like he was a bristling dog.  "It happened a lot. Some subjects considered it lucky."

This time, Iort actually faltered.  Her mouth opened, then shut. It took her a few moments to collect herself.  "Do you know why she was taking subjects like you?"

"No."

"Could you make an educated guess?"

Dammit.  Shiro ground his teeth, but the answer pressed at the best of his mind.  "I imagine she used us as weapons in the Galra's conquest. We saw one of my competitors in the Arena become a robeast, though I hadn't known she chose him for experiments.  She told me once that I would have been her greatest weapon, but I don't know how or why she would think that. It may have just been taunting." He swallowed hard. "She also liked to use her subjects to test side projects.  My arm was an early prototype for Sendak's."

That made Iort's eyes light up.  She stepped closer, then stopped when Shiro tensed up again.  "Does your arm work through magic?"

Shiro's eyes narrowed.  "You asked this question when we were at dinner the first time."

"And I wish to hear the truth."

"I told you the truth!"  Shiro leaned forward, his teeth barred.  "We don't know! It runs on quintessence.  Mine. That's it. That's what we know."

Iort frowned, looking off-balance for the first time.  "How is that possible? The energy output your arm is capable of is beyond the quintessence level for an average being."

Was that why all of this had happened?  Because they'd assumed he was lying from little things like this?  So much so that they  _ had _ to knock him out, put him under a spell, and try and ruin his use?

"I fly the Black Lion.  Using  _ quintessence. _   One could assume I have a higher than average amount, if they were at all intelligent."

Iort took a step back, her eyes narrowed.

The device in Shiro's hand buzzed.

He tapped out a pattern, careful to cover the process with his other hand.  After, the device went still.

Five minutes gone.  Fifteen to go.

Great.

"Were there others with arms like yours?" Iort asked, as soon as Shiro was finished.  She crossed her arms and stared up at him, jaw set.

Shiro swallowed.  "I don't know."

"What about with modified limbs and body parts in general?"

Stomach turning, Shiro nodded.  He looked down at his lap, twisting the switch in his hands.  "Yes. Those were common. I saw them before she picked me to experiment on as well."

Iort took another step forward.  Even when he was sitting, she only came to Shiro's chin.  "How did she choose subjects?"

_ Shiro panted, gripping the blade in his left hand.  His right arm twitched as another painful jolt ran through it. _

_ His opponent lay on the ground, still and limp.  They had been wicked fast and smart. The kind of enemy that Shiro could usually hamstring, and then leave alive.  It conclusively ended the fight when they couldn't use their speed to avoid attacks, but saved him another death on his consciousness. _

_ This time, he hadn't been able to.  Not without the fine motor control of his dominant arm.  Slowly but surely, Shiro was starting to lose the real fight.  The one he'd always been preparing for. _

_ Idly, Shiro wondered how long he'd been here.  Would he have had been able to make it home before now?  Or had Admiral Sanda been right, and he was a liability? He didn't have his cuffs anymore.  If he still had them, would he have had longer? _

_ Useless questions. _

_ The cheers around him continued as Shiro looked away from the dead body.  His eyes traveled up, avoiding the glee of the crowd. _

_ Instead, they found the hooded eyes of Zarkon's witch. _

_ She was watching him, hands on the railing of her booth.  Her whole body was angled forward, like she was on the edge of her seat. _

_ A shiver ran through Shiro. _

_ Catching the witch's attention was never a good thing. _

"She had two criteria," Shiro said, still staring at his lap.  "The first was win record. She didn't waste her time with riff-raff.  You could lose and end up getting Haggar's attention, but if you weren't proven in the arena, she didn't care about you."

This time, Iort paused, like she was giving Shiro time to settle after his flashback.  But it only took a few seconds to continue. "The other?"

"She wanted to  _ improve _ her subjects."  Shiro swallowed against a wave of nausea.  Distantly, he realized his fingers were getting slower and clumsier.  He nearly fumbled the device. It seemed like his hand was farther away, controlled by a force that wasn't him, even if it came from his head.  The sensation was faint too.

When Iort spoke, she also sounded like she was farther away.  But when Shiro managed to pick up his heavy head, she hadn't moved.  "Improve how?"

Shiro shrugged, the movement slight.  It was effort to move. "Depended. Sometimes she felt a creature or opponent wasn't sturdy enough.  She gave them armor they couldn't take off."

"Through magic?"

"I assume."

Iort paused, seeming discomforted by Shiro's flat tone.  She glanced at the spell caster, then continued on. "What about the other times?"

Sighing, Shiro looked down at the metal fingers.  They moved to his slightest thought, mirroring the other side perfectly. Like his own arm was just covered in a thin layer of metal, and if he could just scratch through it, his natural arm would still be there.

Except it wasn't his, because it didn't hurt.

"Sometimes she noticed a personal defect.  An individual fault. If someone wasn't fast enough, she could give them prosthetic legs to make them quicker or jump higher."  Shiro spun Pidge's device between his fingers, watching the light flash over both objects.

Iort cleared her throat.  Shiro didn't look up. "Is that what happened to you?"

"I don't know," Shiro said.  "I don't remember."

"If you had to guess?"

Shiro blinked slowly, then finally looked up at Iort.  "No, I think I asked her to do it."

Eyes wide, Iort stared at him.  "You...?"

The device buzzed.

Shiro didn't look away from Iort, though his fingers curled around the little piece of metal.

Her eyes flickered down to Shiro's lap, a frown pulling on her lips.

It was so tempting to let the minute go.  To just not input the code and end this, if only because the physical act of moving his fingers felt too complex.  His body was distant, clumsy, heavy. The tips of his fingers seemed to tingle, like they were cold and bloodless.

But ending it now wouldn't get Shiro what he wanted.  So he finally forced himself to look down and focus on the device to shut it off again.

"You wanted to be part of her experiments?"  Iort stepped forward again, looking over him as if seeing him for the first time.  She looked nervous, now.

Good.  She probably should be.

Shiro didn't look up.  He wanted to bite his tongue against the answer, but she would keep pushing until she got what she wanted.  Cherry picking his answer would take so much energy that he just didn't have. It had drained from his muscles, leaving him slack and cold where he sat.  

"I wanted to survive.  My right arm was showing the early stages of a disease that would leave me unable to move sooner rather than later.  I assume it stopped working, which would have eventually gotten me killed. So I might have volunteered."

It was the too much of a coincidence, wasn't it?  Shiro tried not to think about it, and he'd never mentioned it to anyone.  Maybe Keith had figured it out, but he only knew about the cuffs, not about the pain in his right arm.  No one had known that except Adam, and he'd never gone to the higher ups to tell them. It hadn't affected his performance, and the cuffs had done their job to delay the symptoms.  But a year without it, in the less than idea conditions of the arena? The disease had to have progressed.

The very arm Haggar had taken had to be the first to fail him.

Who had made the decision?  Had Haggar seen him falter and decided he was her next test subject?  Had the heads of the Arena decided they wanted to preserve their crowd-drawing Champion as long as possible?

Had Shiro himself thought it was his best chance of survival?

Had he done this to himself?

A violent shiver ran through him as his stomach churned.  His left hand shook, though the right one remained coldly steady.

Clearing her throat, the High Councillor collected herself.  "What components does Haggar need to cast her spells?"

Shiro blinked rapidly, refocusing on her at the sudden topic change.  "In combat? None that I've seen or heard about. She's used illusions to create a clones of herself to distract, or to make herself look like others things."  Shiro's own face, eyes Galra yellow, lips twisted back in a smile.

Where had Haggar seen him look like that?  The eyes she could have added herself, but that  _ grin... _

Shiro shook his head and pressed on.  "I heard rumors of her performing rituals as well.  I don't know what those require, but considering that they needed to be scheduled and planned for, they either needed specific aspects or a lot of time."

Iort nodded, more centered now.  Her eyes kept flickering from Shiro to the spell caster, and then the door.  "What about damaging spells?"

"Those don't need components or time either," Shiro said.  "They look like lightning and they can cause burns. Her druids do those as well."

"What else do you know or guess the druids do?"

Shiro paused, considering.  "Damaging electric spells and teleportation from our experiences.  They were used to prepare or assist with rituals as well. Keith would know more."  He stopped, then jerked himself up straighter. Sudden energy filled him as he stared down Iort.  "You won't ask him like this. I won't allow it." Keith would hate this just as much as Shiro, if not more.  Having embarrassing truths dragged from his mouth and left out in the light of day would kill him.

If they tried this again on any of his team, Shiro would make them take it off by any means necessary.

His fist clenched at his side as a roar filled his ears.  It was his blood rushing through his body, but it was soon replaced by a similar roar, rhythmic and chanting.   _ Veprit Sa.  Veprit Sa. _  The call for a kill.

Holding up both hands, Iort hastily stepped back.  The spell caster moved for the first time, settling between Shiro and Iort with their hands up.

Recognizing him as a threat.  As an opponent.

_ Good. _

"We have no intentions of repeating this process, so long as you answer our questions honestly," the High Councillor said carefully, straightening her robes.  "If you will control yourself, we can continue."

Shiro continued to stare her down, still and tense.  His eyes didn't waiver from hers at all. He didn't speak, just waited.

Swallowing hard, Iort barreled on.  "Have you noticed any weaknesses to Haggar's casting?"

Slowly, Shiro slumped back down into place.  The Marmora knife's handle pressed in, this time more reassuring than painful.  The blunt, thick base centered him. This was Keith's blade. It was for his safety and protection.  He had it for the conversation. It would be finished soon. "I don't know enough about casting to say."  But more answers pressed at his tongue, so he continued on. "She casts no defensive spells except to teleport.  Either she stays far away, or she tries to disorient. She's deadly at close combat, but vulnerable to physical strikes."

Just not from Shiro, who she had nearly laughed off.

A light seemed to come on in Iort's eyes.  "Have you ever seen fight or otherwise act without her magic?"

"Only to talk."

"If she didn't have her magic, do you think she could fight back?"

Shiro blinked at the wall behind Iort.

_ Claws dug into Shiro's jaw as his head was pushed left and right.  Haggar's strength was more than her withered form suggested. He jerked his head away and managed to break free, but it left painful welts on his chin.  But he was tied down and unable to move away, and it was easy to for her grab onto him again. _

_ "Hold still and it will be over sooner." _

Shiro's breath escaped him in a slow, shaky exhale.  His spine curled as he resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself.  "I don't think there's a version of Haggar that isn't dangerous. Even without the magic, she's strong, ruthless, and smart.  But she relies heavily on it, especially in combat."

"What about her druids?"

Considering, Shiro shook his head.  "I've never seen them do anything but use magic.  For all I know, there's nothing under those robes."

When Iort paused to pull that over, the device buzzed again.

Shiro glanced over at the door, turning the little machine over to type in the last code of the questioning.

The camera was no longer pointing toward the entrance.

Now it was pointed directly at him.

"Why did that camera move?"

Iort opened her mouth, then paused and turned.  "What do you mean?"

Shiro's brows drew together.  "I mean the camera moved. It was pointed at the entrance, and now it's pointed at us.  Why?"

The Councillor frowned, then spun to face the spell caster.  "Was this done by security?"

"I don't know, Ma'am," the caster replied.  "It wasn't discussed with me. I was just asked to monitor."

This wasn't fair.  Shiro still felt so far away, like he was answering from several feet back and above his body.  These two weren't under the same spell he was, and he couldn't tell if they were lying or not. But their reactions seemed genuinely confused.  It wasn't like they weren't allowed to keep the knowledge they'd gained. If they wanted to record the session, why lie about it?

Shiro finally tore his eyes away.  "Do you have any other questions? Ones that you don't trust us to answer honestly, now that you have verification I was never lying in the first place?"

A scowl flashed over Iort's face.  But she took a deep breath and straightened.  "I have more, but I think we have mined the extent of your knowledge for now, yes.  For what it's worth, Black Paladin, I'm sorry it came to this."

"That's not worth a lot."

Iort clenched her jaw but didn't argue.  "This shared knowledge will benefit all of us in the coalition."

They really thought that they were going to be welcomed in with open arms?  If it had just been up to Shiro, he would have been reluctant. But he'd seen the cold fire in Allura's eyes.  He wished them luck in getting anything but a bayard to the face.

But right now, Shiro still needed their side of the bargain.  So he just clenched his hand against the cold shakes and nodded to Iort.  "Then I'd like it if we ended this now, please."

Iort paused, visibly thinking back over for any other questions.  Then she inclined her head to the caster. "Go ahead."

The caster's eyes flashed again.  This time, a pressure released in Shiro's head.  It was subtle, like his ears popping when he was used to it.

"That's it?" Shiro asked, rubbing over the back of his neck.  "The spell is broken?"

Bowing, the caster nodded.  "Yes, that ended it. Your speech is now your own again."

"In that case, it's been a pleasure."  Shiro pushed himself up off the chair, holding out one hand to steady himself.  The world wobbled and bucked, but he held himself upright. There was a time and a place to fall apart, and that was later, in his own room, alone.  

Shiro stalked forward without so much as a glance back at the other two.  Already, they were speaking in low voices together, probably going over what they'd learned.

If they had insights, it was probably worth listening to.  Defeating Haggar was going to be the of Voltron's greatest challenges, even with Zarkon gone.

But Shiro could not  _ begin _ to care.  Not right now.

On the other side of the door, the rest of the team immediately perked up.  

"How'd it go?" Hunk asked.  "Are you okay?"

"It was super."

Lance's brows jumped up.  "Well, we know he can lie again."

Keith started to reach out, then paused with his hand barely an inch from Shiro's arm.  He didn't actually speak, but his worry was palpable.

Rather than answer his unspoken question (or Hunk's outright asked one), Shiro pulled the blade out from his belt and handed it back.  "Thank you. I'm glad it wasn't necessary."

"Me too."  Keith gripped it tight and put it back, purposefully not looking at anyone else.  "What do you need?"

Shiro swallowed hard.  "I'd really like to get back to the castle, please."

Shoving her laptop in her bag, Pidge bounced on her feet.  "I'll second that. I think we all want out of here." Her voice was just slightly too thick, and she was looking at Shiro's shoulder rather than his face.

An alarm bell went off in Shiro's mind.

Had something happened while he was gone?

Shiro looked over the rest of the group, his brow furrowing.  Everyone looked stressed, which was understandable, giving the circumstances.  But other than giving him space, which Shiro was thankful for, no one else seemed to acting odd.

Worry bloomed in his chest as he looked Pidge over.

Which was when he noticed the top of her headphones were sticking out from her bag, where the zipper wasn't quite closed.

What had Pidge been working on that required listening to audio?  She was supposed to be monitoring the device that Shiro was carrying.  Had she been ignoring that for another project? That wasn't like her. Pidge stayed focused on task.

She had been among the angriest and least trusting of the situation.  She hated that Shiro was doing this alone.

And Pidge was perfectly capable of overriding a local camera system.

Shiro's heart pounded in his throat, and he nearly stumbled back.  His head felt too light for the rest of his body, like it was trying to pull away from the rest of him.  "Pidge. What were you doing on your laptop?"

A full-body jerk ran through Pidge, visible even from several feet away.  "Coding. I needed something to distract myself. Why?"

"Please look at me."

Pidge's head jerked.  Her eyes flickered to his face, then slightly down to his chin. "Yeah?  What's up?"

"Katie."

Finally, for the first time, Pidge met Shiro's eyes.

Hers were red-rimmed, which wasn't a surprise.  They'd looked like that when she left Shiro in that guest room.

The difference was the pain.  The desperation. Pidge looked like Shiro was fading in front of her.

It was the way almost everyone looked when they found out about his disease.

"Tell me that camera wasn't you," Shiro breathed.  His chest ached like it was trying to cave in. "Tell me you didn't."

Pidge bit her bottom lip.  "It wasn't..." Finally, she looked away, tears building in her eyes.  "I'm sorry. I wanted to make sure they weren't hurting you. I didn't mean..."

She'd watched.

"How much?" Shiro's own voice didn't sound right anymore.  It was too flat. Emotionless. He sounded dead.

She'd watched.

Wincing, Pidge curled in on herself, clutching at the straps of her bag.  "Just before the first check-in. I meant to just look and make sure it was you, and then..."

She'd watched almost everything.

"Excuse me, but what are you both talking about?"  Allura finally asked. She stepped forward, like she wanted to steady Shiro but didn't dare to touch him.

Shiro opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  He didn't have words, not when the full realization was settling in.  Shiro's heart raced, pumping him full of burning venom.

Instead, he shook his head.  "Pidge will tell you. I'm going back to the castle."

Immediately, Keith started to follow, jogging to catch up.  "Hey, not alone. I'll-"

_ "No."  _  Shiro closed his eyes, immediately regretting the growl, but unable to take it back.  "I can't. Not anyone. Not now."

With that, he walked away, hands shaking at his side and each step a stiff march.

When he turned the corner, he heard the team's voices and Pidge's quiet, shaky response.

He didn't listen to the words.  Shiro wasn't capable of processing anything else at the moment.

Instead, he ran.

***

Shiro spent the next several hours hiding in his room.

During that time, he felt the castle rumble and jolt, the signal that they'd taken off from the planet.  He stayed on his bed, curled onto his side, and told himself he had nothing to feel guilty for. After they'd cursed him with that truth spell, Shiro was well within his rights to stay out of the way for the rest of the minor negotiations.  From how quickly they'd left, Shiro suspected the Andraxians had been told to shove whatever offer they made. 

Shiro probably should have been there to ask the team to consider more.  The war was more important, and other magic users were an important advantage to deal with Haggar and her Druids.

But he couldn't.  He just couldn't.

Instead, Shiro stared at the wall across from his bed.  It wasn't the right thing to do. It wasn't the leaderly thing to do.  But it was all he could manage. The rest of him was consumed by the boiling fury in his stomach and veins.

Shiro expected cruelty.  He knew the universe was filled with horrible beings who didn't care about the feelings an autonomy of anyone else.  There were those like Haggar, who couldn't care less how much anyone else suffered. There were those like the High Councillor, who thought they were right, and any suffering caused was worth it in the name of their goal.

Shiro hadn't expected this from his team.

He'd asked one thing.  Just one thing. It wasn't even an active action.  All Shiro wanted was privacy. To handle the next 20 minutes himself.  He accepted all the consequences, with full knowledge of how the interrogation would affect him after.  After all, it was his symptoms and his PTSD.

He'd asked  _ one thing. _

And Pidge had decided she knew better.  What Shiro wanted came second to what she wanted, when it was his need versus her curiosity and worry.

Now, Shiro had to live with that.

If circumstances had been different, maybe this wouldn't be so hard to handle.  But the past several days had stripped him of his self-control, and today's questioning and the resulting memories had hollowed Shiro out.  

This was too much.

The light of Shiro's room slowly changed, growing dimmer.  He barely noticed. The procession of time flowed on without him.  He missed lunch, and he'd probably missed dinner too, but that involved him leaving his room.  It involved the effort of getting food, then bringing it to his mouth over and over. 

No one came.  That was probably Keith's doing, since he would understand Shiro's need to lick his wound in peace.  He was desperately thankful. Handling the others would be even more effort than getting food. He'd want them to talk and hug and reassure them.  They'd want him to be fine, and Shiro wanted them to  _ see _ him as fine.  The entire damn  _ point _ of the isolated interrogation was so they wouldn't see him break down.

He could finally lie again, but Shiro just didn't have the energy.

So Shiro let the hours pass him by without struggle.  For once, he didn't even try to bury himself in work until he couldn't think.  He just let that strange, distant mentality take hold until he was floating along, a passive observer in his own body.

Until the needs of that body became too much to ignore, anyway.  Shiro's bladder finally started to ache enough to pierce through his haze.  So Shiro sighed and pushed himself up, then reluctantly trudged to the door, quietly cursing whoever had decided paladin bunks shouldn't get en suite bathrooms.

When he opened the door, his foot hit something soft.

Shiro paused and looked down.  His toe had caught on the underside of folded fabric.  Next to it was one of the little containers that kept food fresh, and on top was a small, familiar device.  The one from the interrogation.

Huh.

Well, Shiro had something else to take care of.  He stepped over the bundle and made his way down the hall instead to take care of his needs.  But on the way back, he scooped up all three items and brought them inside with him.

First, Shiro checked on the container.  He expected to see leftovers from dinner, probably left by Hunk.  But instead there was what looked like a slice of  _ cake _ of all things, piled high with extra whipped cream and dotted with a berry Shiro didn't recognize.

...What?

He put that down on the shelving next to his bed.  Next, he took hold of the fabric and let it fall open.  It unraveled quickly, revealing it was a blanket, though a surprisingly heavy one.  It had more heft than it should, like it was weighed down in places.

A piece of paper fluttered out with familiar, scrawling handwriting.

Ah.

Shiro stared at the note, genuinely picking it off the floor just to crumple it up.  But that would be childish, even after sulking in his room for the whole day. So Shiro wrapped the weirdly heavy blanket around his shoulders, then pieced up the paper.

It read, 'Matt used to bring me dessert when I was feeling bad.  I thought it might help you. I'm really sorry. If you need  _ anything,  _ you can call and I'll get it.'

Both the words 'really' and 'anything' were underlined several times.

Looking to the cake again, Shiro swallowed hard.  The note crinkled in his hand as his grip tightened.

He didn't want this.  A dark part of him wanted to take the cake and throw it out the door, and let the splattered remains be Pidge's answer.

But this was bigger than them both.  Shiro had spent enough time moping. They had jobs to do and a universe to save.  That included being able to form Voltron.

Sighing, Shiro sat down heavily on the bed.  He tightened the new blanket around himself, then reached for the utensils in the container.  He had no appetite, no drive to eat, but at least the sight didn't make his stomach rebel.

The physical act of eating and the taste reluctantly grounded Shiro in the moment.  The weighted fabric helped as well, becoming a constant, warm pressure.

By the time he finished, Shiro felt more settled.  In hindsight, not eating all day had not done anything for his mood or mental state.  It dealt with the hollow ache in his stomach, and filled his tongue with something sweet and light.

Being aware of himself also meant being aware of how  _ mad  _ he still was.

Shiro looked down at the last present.  The little device sat on his bed, pale blue in the reflected light of the castle.

Time to handle this.

He pressed the button on top, then flopped down on his bed and waited.

It wasn't even a minute later that there was a knock on his door.  Then it swung open, revealing Pidge. She was only half visible, like she was hiding behind the door frame, and her red cheeks and eyes said she probably hadn't had a more comfortable afternoon than Shiro.  "Hey. Um. You need something?"

"We should talk."

Pidge swallowed hard and ducked her head.  "Yeah, probably." She trudged her way in, letting the door close behind her, and stopped in the middle of the room.  Her hands were folded behind her back, like she was about to get scolded by someone at the Garrison or during training.  But for once, there was none of the stubborn fire he usually saw when Pidge was in trouble. 

The lack of rebellion hurt Shiro to see, despite everything.

Pidge was sorry.  She was clearly and painfully sorry.

But that didn't erase what she'd done.

Looking her over, Shiro sighed and sat up.  "I don't even know where to start."

"Can I start, then?"  Pidge asked. She glanced up at him through her bangs.  "'Cause I've kinda been thinking all day about stuff I wanted to say."

Nodding, Shiro leaned back against the wall.  "Okay. Go on."

"I'm really,  _ really  _ sorry, Shiro.  I promise I wasn't trying to learn any secrets.  I didn't know there was anything- okay, there's stuff you don't want us to know.  But you're so scared of everything about Haggar and you act like us knowing any of it will, like, corrupt us or something.  I know it freaks you out to think we might know what happened, but nothing would make us hate you, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal if I just checked in really fast to make sure.  And then she kept getting close to you and I was worried she was going to try something so I just... didn't stop." Pidge ran her hands through her bangs, making them stick up chaotically.  "I wasn't trying to spy on you, I promise."

Shiro closed his eyes and ducked his head.  "So what you're saying is that you didn't respect that I find revisiting or talking about my year in captivity uncomfortable, you assumed I was being irrational and not that I had thought-out, personal reasons for keeping secrets, and you didn't trust me to watch out for myself.  Is that right?"

Eyes filling with tears, Pidge stared at him.  "No! That's not- I didn't..." She shut her mouth and took a deep, watery breath.  "Um."

Yeah, that's what Shiro thought.

He rubbed his palm over one eye, forcing away the first prickle of his own tears.  It  _ hurt _ to see Pidge upset, but he couldn't back off on this.

"I asked for you not to be there," Shiro said, eyes finally opening.  "I wanted privacy for the interrogation. It was already so hard to get through, and it would be even harder if I knew you were listening.  I spent so much time and effort trying to be the person you all need, and I couldn't be that the past two days. After already having my choices ripped away from the curse, I would have hoped you would respect letting me keep this one."

The tears finally fell.  "I'm sorry," Pidge repeated, voice getting tighter.  "I didn't think of it that way. I just wanted you to be safe."

Shiro pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "I know.  But that doesn't make it hurt less."

Sniffling, Pidge rubbed over her cheeks, trying to wipe up her tears.  "I want to make it better. And not just better because we need Voltron.  I want to make it  _ okay. _  How do I do that?"

A dark, sharp laugh burst out of Shiro.  "I wish I knew. If I could tell you how, I would.  Right now I'm struggling to figure out the Voltron part."  Looking her over, Shiro sighed and patted the bed next to him.  "At least sit."

Pidge scrambled onto the bed and settled on the wall next to Shiro.  She folded her legs up to her chest and wrapped her legs around it. "So I just broke everything?  There's nothing I can do? You're just never going to forgive me?"

Despite himself, a laugh bubbled out of Shiro.  "Maybe. That doesn't mean I hate you forever. It means that I'm never okay with today.  It's not something we can laugh about later. It'll always hurt. Has Matt ever done anything to you that you still get mad about?"

Pidge rested her cheek on her knees.  "Nothing this big. It was stuff like throwing my stuffed animal out the car window.  Not..." She gestured between them both and sighed. "Problems should be fixable."

"That would be nice.  But not all of them can be."  Shiro looked down at his right arm, flexing the fingers.  "Even when it seems unfair."

A sniffle drew his attention back to Pidge.  The tears were falling again, and this time she made no attempt to stop them.  "Can I ask just one thing?" She waited for his nod before continuing. "Why didn't you ever tell us?"

Shiro sighed and slumped back against the wall.  "It's hard to talk about. It wasn't important for a while.  As long as it wouldn't hurting my ability to function, it didn't seem to matter.  And people are different when they know. They act like I'm about to break or disappear forever.  They don't think I can do my job and I need to be tucked away somewhere safe. I wanted to be strong for you guys, not someone to take care of."

Not a burden.

"Oh."  Pidge bit her bottom lip again, processing that.  "Who knows?"

"On the ship?  Keith and Allura.  I told Allura yesterday, and Keith's known for years."

"What about my dad?"

Shiro paused, brows up.  "You think I could have gotten on that mission without Commander Holt knowing?  Not likely."

Nodding, Pidge rested the back of her head against the wall.  "I heard Dad talking to Mom sometimes about how hard it was to get the pilot he wanted.  I thought it was because you were so young. It wasn't that, was it?"

"I'd commanded a smaller mission before, so no."  Shiro looked over her face carefully. "There was no real danger.  My disease was - is, mostly - still in the early stages. I had medicine and exercises and tools to help, too.  There was reluctance, but because of a small possibility all of that failed. Even if it did, it took months for even the one arm to become a problem.  I never would have agreed if it put your family in danger."

Pidge's mouth fell open.  Then she whirled around and shoved his arm with both hands, nearly bowling him over.  "That's not what- no! I didn't think that at all. I was thinking that Dad thought you were  _ the best.   _ He told me stories about you and records you broke.  He never thought you needed to be locked up and protected."

A crack formed in Shiro's chest.  "Yeah. He and Matt were great. Keith's been good too, even if he can be protective.  But most people aren't." 

"And I did it too," Pidge said, her voice getting very small.  She let go of his arm and stared up at him, eyes shining with moisture.  "I treated you like you couldn't handle yourself or make your own choices."

"Yes."

Pidge's whole face crumpled.  She teetered to the side and pressed her face into his left shoulder, smearing her tears into his shirt.  "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't mean it like that."

Sighing, Shiro slumped as well, watching her cry into his shoulder.  He couldn't bring himself to touch, not yet. "I know you didn't. Thank you for apologizing."

Eventually, Pidge picked her head up and scrubbed under her eyes.  "I don't think you're weak. You're one of the strongest, coolest, most capable guys I know.  Someone would have to be an idiot to spend any time around you and not think you can do anything you want.  I was just... a temporary idiot."

Absurdly, it was hearing Pidge knock her own intelligence that drew a smile to Shiro's face.  He reached up and smoothed her hair down. "We both know you're not an idiot."

"It was temporary, but I was really stupid."  Pidge searched his face, then drew herself up.  "But problems should be fixable. So I'm going to fix this."

Shiro's brows jumped up.  "Didn't we just talk about how that's not possible?"

"Yeah, but only because no one has fixed your problem  _ yet." _  Pidge straightened her shoulders and dropped her legs to sit properly.  "You said you had tools to help your disease before, right? If you tell me what they do, I can build more."

Staring, Shiro slowly nodded.  "I can do that. I have a good idea how they worked.  But that's not a cure. It just helps keep the muscles functional for longer."

Pidge narrowed her eyes, but nodded.  "Yeah, I figured. But we have Altean technology, and we have all kinds of allies, and we have me.  And I'm smarter than all your doctors or all the idiots at the Garrison. So maybe they couldn't fix it, but I bet I can."

The crack widened, until it felt like it cleanly cut through all of Shiro's chest.  "I wasn't aware you had a medical degree."

Flapping a hand, Pidge scoffed.  "I have better than that. I have aliens.  So we'll figure it out. Even if we can't totally cure it, between all of us we can slow it down so much you won't have to worry about it until all of you is gray and wrinkly."

"Thanks for that mental image."  Shiro looked over Pidge's face and held his breath.  He didn't really believe that she could do anything to solve this.  Hope wasn't something he allowed himself, not so readily and foolishly.  He'd been burned before.

But Pidge believed it.  She really believed she could do this.

"You don't have to," Shiro said slowly, still staring at her.  "We'll be okay. I just need some time."

Pidge nodded, eyes still bright and clear.  "I know. But you said this was going to leave you bed bound, and it's already started.  That means you probably don't have very long, right? You deserve longer. You deserve to get to live a really long life with a dozen dogs where you can do whatever you want, so long as we can all come visit you and bug you all the time.  It's not about forgiveness. It's about you getting your whole life. Even if I give you a few months or years more, that's worth it."

Shiro couldn't move.  He could barely breathe.  He could only continue to stare at Pidge and not let hope creep into his heart.  Not again.

When he didn't speak, Pidge just nodded.  "You don't have to believe me. I'll do all the work and have the hope.  You keep leading us and winning the war. I can do this for you. Please?"

She wanted his permission this time.

A wild laugh spilled out of Shiro.  He yanked her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, practically clinging.  "Yeah. You can try. Just don't update me unless there's big news, okay? Or if you need testing or something."

"Gotcha.  Can do." Pidge wrapped her arms around his neck and held on just as tightly.  "You're my family, you know that? I went out into space to get my dad and brother.  This is nothing compared to that."

"True," Shiro said, smiling into her hair.  "Thank you for trying. If you manage, I definitely forgive you for this, and anything else you do like this."

Pidge nodded and pulled back, smiling up at him.  "Good. Then I'm going to get started. You said Allura knows?  I'll talk to her first, then. I'll ask about your tools another day."  She squirmed off his lap and onto the floor. Then she paused and turned around.  "One more thing."

"Hm?"

"When you want to, and when you feel comfortable?  I think you should tell everyone else." Pidge bit her bottom lip, but didn't flinch when his expression shuttered again.  "I think you'd have to do a lot more than that to make us think less of you. Any of it. I promise."

A cold ball formed in Shiro's stomach.  "Okay."

"You don't believe me," Pidge said, her eyes sharp.  "That's okay. You don't have to. But I'll be right someday.  Do you want more cake?"

The sudden conversation switch made Shiro blink rapidly.  "Um. No, thank you."

"Okay.  You can still call for anything.  Keith said you'd want to be alone so I'll leave you be, so just buzz."  Pidge opened the door, then smiled at him. "We love you. You know that, right?"

"I do.  I love you guys, too."

Pidge nodded, satisfied with that.  Then she waved and left, the door shutting behind her.

Sighing, Shiro slumped back down on the bed, amused despite his churning stomach.

Pidge had never known a scenario where love wasn't enough to get through problems.  Where someone could love you but still hurt you in a way that both sides could only walk away from.  Where love could be the reason to smother or wound.

He didn't want her to ever experience that.  She probably would, someday, but Shiro didn't wish it on her.

For now, Shiro would take the day to recover, and probably drown in guilt tomorrow while dealing with all the extra work.  He'd go back to being the Black Paladin like nothing was wrong, and like he hadn't spent the night battling nightmares of his new memories.

The past two days had been torture.  But they hadn't been all bad.

There was something to be said for honesty after all.  Especially if it lead to results for problems he'd given up on.

Shiro stared up at the ceiling and froze the hope out of his heart.  It wasn't worth it.

But the hugs and care and support?

Maybe those were.

Shiro rolled onto his side, moving the weighted blanket so it covered all of him.  The plate with the cake crumbs still sat on his shelf, a quiet reminder of Pidge's apology and support.

Loved ones could hurt.  Loved ones could wound.

But they could help too.

So maybe.

Hope wasn't worth it yet, but it could be soon.

It all depended on the future.

Shiro could only embrace that.


End file.
